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WORKS  BY 

LOUISA  PARSONS  HOPKINS, 

Teacher  of  Normal  Methods  in  the  Swain 
Free  School,  New  Bedford. 


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LEE  AND  SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS, 

BOSTON. 


HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE   TAUGHT! 


PRACTICAL  PEDAGOGY 


OR 


THE    SCIENCE    OF  TEACHING 
ILLUSTRATED 


BY 


LOUISA   P.   HOPKINS 

SUPERVISOR     OF     UOSTON     PUBLIC     SCHOOLS 


BOSTON 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD    PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK   CHARLES  T.  DILLINGHAM 


COPYRIGHT,  iSS6,  BY  LEE  AND  SHEPARD. 
yl//  Rights  Reserved. 

HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE  TAUGHT? 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  BABE  IN  THE  MOTHER'S  ARMS i 

II.  AFTER  THE  KINDERGARTEN 6 

III.  A  YEAR'S  EXPERIMENT  IN  TEACHING 12 

IV.  THE  OPENING  SCHOOL 20 

V.  THE  KEY-NOTE 25 

VI.  ARITHMETIC 31 

THE  CLASS    IN   ARITHMETIC:  — 

ITS    INTRODUCTION   TO   COMPOUND   NUMBERS,  36 

INTRODUCTION   TO   FINANCE 45 

VII.  NATURE  LESSONS 55   v 

VIII.  READING  TO  THE  CHILDREN 68 

IX.  ORAL  LESSONS 73  \ 

ON  BIRDS 77 

IN  BOTANY— i.,  ii.,  iii.,  iv 87 


IV  CONTENTS. 

X.  PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS in 

XI.  PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY  —  i.,  ii.,  iii.,  iv.,  v. .  136 

Vi.  THE   SENSES l6l 

Vii.   THE  EYE 164 

viii.   THE  SENSE  OF   HEARING l68 

IX.   VITAL   ORGANS  :  — THE   HEART 174 

THE   LUNGS 176 

THE   DIGESTIVE   ORGANS 178 

XII.  THE  PRIMARY  TEACHER:    HER  WORK  AND  HER 

FITNESS  FOR  IT 183 

XIII.  AN  ADDRESS  TO  PRIMARY-SCHOOL  TEACHERS     .    .  197 

XIV.  THE  SCIENCE  OF  PRIMARY  TEACHING 207 

XV.  PARABLES;    LAWS  OF  NATURE  AND  LIFE,  OR  SCI- 
ENCE APPLIED  TO  CHARACTER  ...  238 


PREFACE. 


THE  following  papers  were  published  during 
eight  years  in  the  Primary  Teacher,  edited  by 
W.  E.  Sheldon.  They  have  the  virtue  of  being 
immediate  reports  of  actual  work  with  a  class  of 
children  whose  growth  from  childhood  to  later 
youth  has  justified  the  methods  of  that  early 
education. 

A  protest  against  the  amount  of  work  claimed 
for  one  year  called  out  the  appreciative  explan- 
ation of  Col.  T.  Wentworth  Higginson,  which  I 
append,  knowing  that  my  cause  is  secure  in  the 
hands  of  such  a  champion  of  right  education. 

LOUISA  P.  HOPKINS. 


MRS.  HOPKINS'  -YEAR'S  EXPERIMENT." 


BY  THOMAS  WENTWORTH  HIGGINSON. 


"THE   WRONG   HANDLE." 

"  ALL  things,"  says  Epictetus,  "  have  two 
handles :  beware  of  the  wrong  one."  I  have 
never  seen  the  wrong  handle  more  distinctly  used 
than  in  the  criticisms,  public  and  private,  on  the 
essay  "  A  Year's  Experiment,"  by  Mrs.  Hopkins, 
published  in  the  November  number  of  the 
Primary  Teacher. 

The  essay  gave  the  extraordinary  results  of  a 
year's  teaching,  applied  to  a  class  of  girls  by  a 
teacher  of  thorough  training  and  much  experience, 
but  who  had  happily  escaped  what  may  be 
called  the  "  ruts  "  of  our  public-school  system. 

The  difference  of  attitude  of  the  writer  and  her 
critics  seems  at  first  bewildering ;  but  a  little 
examination  will  explain  it.  Perhaps  an  illustra- 


Vlll  COLONEL   HIGGINSON'S  LETTER. 

tion  will  help.  I  know  a  scientific  man  who  made 
a  calculation  of  the  amount  of  space  travelled,  in 
a  single  day,  by  his  boy  of  four  years.  I  forget 
the  amount,  but  it  was  something  stupendous. 
If  it  had  been  announced  in  the  public  prints 
that  any  child  of  that  age  had  been  compelled  to 
walk  one-half  that  distance  along  a  public  road, 
between  sunrise  and  sunset,  the  Society  for  the 
Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Children  would  have  in- 
terfered. They  would  have  shown,  by  irresistible 
argument,  that  the  task  was  atrocious;  and  they 
would  have  been  quite  right,  had  it  been  done 
under  compulsion.  Yet  there  is  the  fact  that, 
when  the  child  is  left  to  itself,  it  accomplishes 
twice  the  amount,  and  calls  it  play. 

We  touch  here  the  precise  difference.  Looked 
at  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  average  public 
school,  I  should  think  that  Mrs.  Hopkins'  state- 
ment would  appear  an  outrage.  For  this  point  of 
view  would  be  like  measuring  the  miles  along  the 
road.  Public-school  teachers,  reading  the  essay, 
assume  that  the  author  has  produced  their  results, 
by  their  methods.  Not  at  all :  she  has  produced 
her  own  results,  by  her  own  methods.  It  is  evi- 
dent from  her  statement  that  the  children  enjoyed 


COLONEL   HIGGINSON'S  LETTER.  IX 

themselves  as  they  went  along.  In  my  own  case 
there  is  the  additional  evidence  derived  from  a 
personal  knowledge  of  Mrs.  Hopkins  herself,  and 
from  the  firm  conviction  that  she  would  not  over- 
work children,  and  would  not  "cram."  Of  course 
this  is  private  knowledge,  but  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  article  carries  its  own  evidence  on  that  point. 
I  must  say,  frankly,  that  I  do  not  think  it 
possible  for  the  best  public-school  teacher  to 
render  justice  to  what  can  be  done  for  a  picked 
class  of  young  children  whose  minds  are  fresh 
and  unspoiled.  Public  schools  have  many  strong 
merits,  but  their  size  and  their  mixed  material 
give  very  little  chance  for  the  kind  of  talent  in 
teacher  or  scholar  which  produces  great  individual 
results.  Consequently,  all  steps  which  look  to- 
ward fresh  and  natural  methods  have  to  be  tried 
in  private  schools  first.  Public  schools  for  drill, 
no  doubt,  and  for  mutual  action  of  mind ;  but 
private  schools  for  freshness  and  originality. 

It  was  the  theory  of  Horace  Mann,  and  nobody 
has  ever  got  beyond  it,  that  all  knowledge  is 
naturally  attractive  to  a  child,  and  that  it  is  our 
fault  if  he  does  not  love  it  all.  It  is  idle  to  say 
that  there  is  no  royal  road  to  knowledge.  Prob- 


X  COLONEL   HIGGINSON'S  LETTER. 

ably  the  most  extraordinary  intellectual  feat 
we  perform  in  all  our  lives  is  the  learning  to 
spell  our  own  language ;  and  this  we  do  so  easily 
and  early  that  we  do  not  remember  anything  about 
it.  If  we  could  learn  to  make  other  intellectual 
feats  as  attractive  and  natural,  they  too  could  be 
done,  in  their  turn,  without  tears.  Take  as  illustra- 
tion the  different  things  taught  by  Mrs.  Hopkins. 
When  her  critics  hear  that  her  young  pupils 
learned  to  speak  French  and  German,  they  are 
appalled ;  for  they  think  of  long  and  weary 
lessons  in  Ollendorff  or  Fasquelle.  But  all  ex- 
perience shows  that  if  you  take  children  early 
enough,  and  surround  them  with  people  speaking 
different  languages,  they  will  learn  two  or  three 
of  these  as  easily  as  one,  and  with  a  purity  of 
accent  that  shames  their  more  learned  elders. 
So  in  history :  when  Mrs.  Hopkins  says  of  her 
pupils,  "  They  had  quite  a  clear  vision  of  the 
course  of  events  in  this  country  for  two  hundred 
years,"  she  says  what  is  perfectly  practicable ;  it 
can  be  safely  claimed  that  hundreds  of  children 
ten  years  old  have  learned  the  same  by  simply 
reading  and  re-reading,  to  please  themselves,  the 
work  she  names  as  a  text-book. 


COLONEL   HIGGINSON'S  LETTER.  xi 

When  one  critic  says,  "  No  child  of  ten  ought 
to  memorize  enough  to  remember  the  leading 
events  in  our  country  for  the  last  two  hundred 
years,"  we  see  the  point  of  view  of  the  public 
school.  In  these  schools  the  " leading  events" 
are  often  held  to  include  the  number  of  killed  and 
wounded  on  each  side  in  every  battle  of  the 
American  Revolution.  But  this  is  just  the  method 
which  Mrs.  Hopkins  sets  aside ;  and  experience 
shows  that  her  success,  on  her  method,  is  perfectly 
practicable.  So,  when  we  turn  to  the  other  studies 
mentioned,  we  see  the  same  influence  of  a  wise 
teacher  availing  herself  of  the  natural  action  of  the 
childish  mind.  Who  that  has  taught  natural  his- 
tory to  children,  in  outdoor  lessons,  in  summer, 
cannot  see  that  this  formidable  "  Zoology  and 
Botany  "  may  be  so  presented  as  to  be  a  delight  ? 
They  are  such  things  as  children  learn  in  vacation, 
under  right  guidance,  and  call  it  play.  So  with 
even  grammar  and  arithmetic,  as  here  described. 
The  difference  between  a  natural  and  an  arbitrary 
mode  of  presenting  them  is  simply  the  difference 
between  rowing  with  the  current  or  against  it. 

Thus  the  whole  paper  is  to  me — interpreting  it, 
no  doubt,  with  personal  knowledge  of  the  author  — 


Xii  COLONEL   HIGGINSON'S  LETTER. 

something  very  much  like  the  scientific  calculation 
of  my  friend  as  to  the  miles  traversed  by  his  little 
boy.  Having  carried  her  pupils  easily  along,  Mrs. 
Hopkins  looks  round  with  amazement  to  see  how 
far  she  has  brought  them.  Any  teacher  who 
begins  by  summing  up  the  miles  is  taking  hold 
of  the  wrong  handle,  whether  it  be  done  for 
censure  or  imitation.  But  any  teacher  who  will 
observe  and  imitate  the  methods  of  nature  will 
have  reason  to  be  astonished,  I  am  sure,  at  the 
distance  easily  traversed,  whether  in  a  day  or  a 
year.  —  Woman* s  Journal  of  January  19,  1878. 


HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE  TAUGHT? 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    BABE    IN    THE    MOTHER'S    ARMS  J      OR,    PRIMARY 
TEACHING. 

WE  are  accustomed  to  apply  this  expression, 
Primary  Teaching,  to  a  secondary  stage  of  educa- 
tion which  begins  with  the  primary  school ;  but 
there  is  undoubtedly  an  earlier  teaching,  which 
begins  with  the  opening  senses  and  perceptions  of 
the  babe  in  its  mother's  arms.  The  attention  of 
scientists  is  already  turned  to  this  era  of  educa- 
tion, and  Frobel  has  formulated  its  stages  to 
some  extent.  We  might  go  back  of  even  that 
for  the  primary  teaching,  and  suggest  instruction 
for  the  mother  in  the  very  beginnings  of  her 
relations  with  her  child,  as  the  former  of  its 
being ;  but  for  the  present  we  limit  ourselves  to 
the  consideration  of  the  education  which  begins 
with  the  cradle. 

i 


2  //oil'  SHALL    MY  CHILD   RE    TAUGHT?. 

The  little  unconscious  pupil  is  to  be  moulded 
by  the  most  intangible  influences.  It  is  impossi- 
ble to  analyze  the  sympathy  and  love  which 
emanate  from  the  true  mother,  and  which  are  the 
life-elements  of  the  babe's  atmosphere.  How 
barren  are  the  regulations  of  the  nurse  and 
physician,  compared  with  the  vital  force  of  the 
mother's  absorbed  interest !  She  is  content  to 
hold  it  in  her  arms  day  and  night,  breathing  out 
her  love.  It  may  be  that  a  constant  magnetic 
current  is  still  flowing  between  the  child  and 
mother  as  a  channel  of  growth.  Her  presence  in 
itself  is  a  gentle  stimulus  to  its  development.  If 
we  would  learn  from  nature,  let  us  receive  this 
fact  as  an  indication  of  one  important  element  in 
the  subsequent  stages  of  the  child's  education. 
First,  an  atmosphere  must  be  created  in  which 
the  formative  agencies  can  work  ;  a  magnetic 
current  of  sympathy  must  flow  between  pupil 
and  teacher,  which  shall  bear  freely  upon  its 
course  all  that  the  teacher  has  to  give  and  the 
pupil  may  receive. 

Again,  the  mother  follows  her  loving  instinct  in 
giving  to  her  cradled  babe  what  it  shows  a  desire 
for,  —  not  forcing  a  succession  of  facts  upon  its 


THE  BABE  IN   THE  MOTHER'S  ARMS.  3 

attention  ;  she  gives  it  time  to  perceive  and  receive 
a  distinct  image  or  impression,  and  then  to  rest. 
She  neither  urges  the  babe  to  concentration,  nor 
seeks  to  divert  it  when  concentrated.  She  is 
happy  if  she  be  not  trying  to  straiten  herself  and 
her  child  to  the  rules  of  society  or  the  maxims 
of  critical  aunts  and  those  unnatural  dowagers 
who  think  the  baby  should  be  managed  so  as  to 
be  most  easily  forgotten  and  left  out  of  the 
family  calculations.  My  chief  abhorrence  is  that 
woman  who  ridicules  a  young  mother's  devotion  ; 
who  would  have  the  sensitive  babe  left  to  in- 
different and  ignorant  nurses,  or  to  the  terrifying 
phantoms  and  lonely  darkness  of  its  worse  than 
orphaned  cradle,  while  the  false  or  misguided 
mother  entertains  her  society  friends  or  reads 
the  latest  novel.  I  could  summon  Ivan  Ivano- 
vitch  to  cleave  the  head  of  that  cold-hearted 
woman  with  his  honest  axe,  as  he  did  that  of  the 
Siberian  mother  who  threw  her  children  to  the 
howling  wolves.  I  could  stand  by  at  such  a 
drama  and  say,  "  Well  done,  true  and  honest 
avenger  ;  God's  man  in  God's  place." 

The    gospel    of   the    earliest    education    is    the 
motherly  instinct,  the  highest  and  oldest  revela- 


4  HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

tion  of  the  law  and  pattern  of  primary  teaching. 
Frobel  was  able  to  announce  its  formulae  only 
by  abandoning  his  mind  to  the  observation  of  the 
mother's  instinctive  methods ;  that  was  his 
domain  of  discovery.  I  remember  an  occasion 
when  two  young  mothers,  thoroughly  obedient  to 
that  instinct,  attended  a  lecture  by  an  apostle  of 
child-culture.  They  were  amused  by  the  assump- 
tion of  originality  on  the  part  of  the  lecturer. 
The  maxims  laid  down  were  to  them  axioms,  as 
they  have  been  to  every  genuine  mother  since  the 
world  began.  Fortunately  for  the  race  of  man, 
the  mothers  have  been  taught  by  a  higher 
authority  than  even  Frobel,  if  they  enter  upon 
their  vocation  obedient  to  the  heavenly  vision 
which  is  vouchsafed  them  at  the  cradle. 

Nevertheless,  something  is  gained  by  a  logical 
statement  and  analysis  of  these  natural  methods 
of  the  nursery.  The  danger  is  that  the  statement 
will  become  one-sided  —  that  with  the  inertia 
and  momentum  of  an  enthusiastic  idealist,  the 
development  of  a  system  of  child-culture  will  be 
excessive  in  one  direction  ;  the  harmony  of  nature 
will  be  destroyed.  Let  us  be  careful  how  we 
introduce  our  hard  lines  too  early  into  the  free 


THE  BABE  IN  THE  MOTHER'S  ARMS.      5 

drawing  of  nature's  plan.  We  should  follow,  not 
Frobel,  but  the  child,  and  make  up  our  system 
with  a  breadth  commensurate  with  the  infinite 
play  of  its  unfolding  faculties. 

BABY'S   OBJECT   LESSON. 

THE  babe-  in  the  swinging  cradle 

Lifts  his  fair,  dimpled  hand, 
All  rosy  and  soft,  and  waving 

With  a  gesture  of  command. 


His  blue  eyes  gaze  in  wonder 
At  the  tapering  fingers  spread 

Who  knows  what  dawning  fanci 
They  waken  in  his  head  ? 


He  sees  them  glow  in  the  sunshine, 
He  watches  their  shadows  dim, 

While  he  hears  the  tender  music 
His  mother  sings  to  him. 

Fair  dream  of  form  and  color, 
Of  motion  and  beauty  bright, 

Of  light  and  shadow  and  music, 
Of  rhythmic,  true  delight. 

Now  the  pretty  lesson  is  over, 
The  dainty  hand  drops  low, 

The  curtain  of  sleep  is  falling 
On  all  that  the  babe  may  know 


CHAPTER  II. 

AFTER   THE    KINDERGARTEN. 

HERE  is  a  class  fresh  from  the  awakening  love- 
training  of  the  kindergarten,  and  ready  for  the 
next  step  in  the  beautiful  unfolding  of  a  true  edu- 
cation. Their  observing  and  constructive  facul- 
ties are  all  alive  and  waiting  for  material  to  grasp 
and  use.  Shall  they  go  on  with  plays  and  mere 
preparation  still,  or 'shall  we  give  them  more  essen- 
tial work  to  do,  —  the  discovery  of  the  elements 
of  science,  —  the  ground-work  of  all  the  compli- 
cated system  of  human  knowledge  ? 

If  we  observe  such  a  class  of  children,  we  shall 
find  their  senses  on  the  alert  and  their  memory 
very  impressible  and  retentive.  They  see,  and 
love  to. see,  the  most  minute  details,  and  are  sus- 
ceptible of  much  training  in  making  special  obser- 
vations ;  they  also  learn  facts  easily,  and  the  mem- 
ory stores  up  permanently  all  in  which  they 
have  an  active  interest.  Now  is  the  time  for 
their  senses  to  observe,  and  for  the  memory  to 

6 


AFTER    THE  KINDERGARTEN.  7 

make  a  lasting  impression  of  what  is  observed.  The 
education  of  the  senses  should  be  carried  on  in 
the  legitimate  field  of  observation,  —  the  material 
works  of  Nature.  The  eye  should  be  trained  to 
discern  form,  color,  size,  motion  ;  the  ear  to  hear 
and  discriminate  varieties  of  sound,  and  all  the 
senses  to  occupy  themselves  in  gathering  informa- 
tion. What  a  store  of  facts  may  be  discovered 
and  laid  up  in  the  mind  for  future  arrangement ! 
Animate  and  inanimate  Nature  —  an  open  book, 

—  plants  and  animals,  earths,  rocks,  clouds,  and 
stars,  invite  the  senses   to    examine,   inspire    the 
child  with  a  thirst  for  the  knowledge  that  may  be 
gained  by  his  original  observation.     He  wants  to 
learn    for  himself,  to  work  with   his    own    tools ; 
nothing  escapes  his  memory  which  is  so  graven  in 
by  a  lively  interest.     A  chance  must  be  given  him 
to  see,  to  hear,  or    to  handle  something  of  the 
world  about  him.     Select  for  him  specimens,  put 
them  before  him  —  the  snow,  the  rain,  ice,   wind, 

—  lead  him  to  find  out  what  he  can  of  them,  with- 
out telling  him  ;  spring  comes,  the  trees  beckon, 
the  birds    call,    breezes    entice,    perfumes    allure ; 
take  him  into  the  woods,  as  Mr.  Emerson  took  his 
classes,  show  him  the  leaves  till  he  learns  their 


HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

distinctive  points,  till  his  eye  grows  quick  to 
count  the  pine-needles  in  their  sheaths  by  twos 
and  threes  and  fives,  till  his  ear  detects  the  shades 
of  tone  which  the  differing  foliage  gives  to  /Eolian 
breezes ;  or  follow  Agassiz  to  the  islands  and 
shores,  with  dredge  and  microscopes,  and  let  the 
learner  make  discoveries  there.  No  living  or  un- 
living thing  within  his  grasp,  on  land  or  sea, 
eludes  the  examination  of  his  senses.  What  is 
there  in  all  the  books  so  valuable  to  him  as  what 
he  will  learn  without  them  ?  To  philosophize  and 
systematize  ?  that  he  may  postpone.  Fill  his  cells 
with  honey  first,  and  the  future  pupa  will  thrive  in 
time. 

I  am  more  and  more  convinced  that  children 
should  be  led  into  these  pleasant  paths  of  natural 
observation  very  early,  while  they  have  a  marked 
love  for  it,  to  find  that  the  revelation  of  knowledge 
is  direct  to  each  one  that  hungers  and  thirsts  for 
it,  and  it  is  the  first  business  of  the  teacher  to 
create  this  hunger  by  putting  appetizing  food 
before  the  scholar,  not  cramming  it  down  his 
throat  in  doses  of  books ;  let  him  look  at  the 
beautiful  fruit  until  his  mouth  waters  for  it ;  let 
him  taste  it  by  so  much  as  he  can  put  into  his 


AFTER    THE   KINDERGARTEN.  9 

own  mouth  at  once,  and  he  will  learn  to  love  it, 
and  will  not  be  satisfied  but  with  more  and  more 
as  he  is  able  to  digest  it.  The  teacher  is  with 
him,  not  to  examine  for  him,  not  to  force  the 
result  of  another's  observation  upon  him,  not  even 
to  examine  him,  but  to  direct  his  senses,  to  stimu- 
late his  desire,  to  present  the  essential  points  of 
the  object  before  him,  and  to  preserve  an  underly- 
ing method  in  his  observations  of  which  he  is  as 
yet  unconscious  ;  so  there  will  be  little  need  of 
mere  recitation.  Will  the  child  forget  a  secret  of 
Nature  which  she  herself  has  revealed  to  him  ? 
Never ;  he  is  more  receptive  and  patiently  observ- 
ant then  he  will  ever  be  again  if  this  opportunity 
is  neglected. 

But  when  shall  the  primer  and  the  arithmetic 
be  brought  in  ?  shall  not  the  child  now  learn  to 
read  and  count  ?  Yes,  this  is  indeed  the  time, 
before  he  is  impatient  of  little  things,  for  him  to 
acquire,  by  a  simple  act  of  his  ready  and  enduring 
memory,  many  things  which  must  be  gained,  and 
are  better  gained,  at  the  start.  But  excite  his 
enjoyment  in  learning  by  sympathy  and  activity, 
combine  concerted  and  audible  repetition  with 
physical  exercise,  —  mind,  body,  and  soul  all 


10         HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

working  together  as  they  should  ;  his  constructive- 
ness  helps  him  to  put  letters  and  sounds  together, 
to  build  up  syllables,  words,  and  sentences,  to 
commit  to  memory  changes  in  the  forms  of  words, 
as  the  conjugations  and  declensions,  and  to  be- 
come familiar,  after  Sauveur's  method,  with  words 
and  phrases  in  other  languages  than  his  own. 
How  much  of  all  this  may  be  made  a  pastime  and 
be  all  the  more  thoroughly  acquired  for  future  use, 
and  thus  the  foundation  be  laid  for  a  true  and 
generous  culture ! 

There  are  such  great  differences  in  children  as 
to  their  apprehension  of  moral  truths,  still  more  of 
spiritual  truths,  that  the  work  must  be  quite  indi- 
vidual in  this  development ;  but  what  a  healthy 
inspiration,  perhaps  creative  power,  comes  from 
all  this  study  of  Nature  !  With  a  reverent  guide, 
they  feel  the  nearness  and  the  goodness  of  the 
wise  and  loving  All-Father  in  all  that  they  search 
into  ;  they  trace  his  thought  there,  and  learn  to 
love  him ;  a  perception  grows  within  them  of 
something  he  is  ready  to  whisper  to  their  secret 
hearts,  until  they  listen  for  that  conscience-word 
and  let  it  govern  them.  Such  recognition  is  the 
germ  of  all  spiritual  life,  —  I  had  almost  said  its 


AFTER    THE  KINDERGARTEN.  II 

flower,  —  and  is  waiting  to  spring  up  in  the  heart 
of  childhood  ;  it  takes  root  in  deep  principles  of 
life,  and  grows  into  virtue,  regulating  the  instincts 
more  surely  than  precepts,  and  developing  the 
highest  character  much  better  than  arbitrary  codes. 
To  bring  my  thoughts  to  a  focus  on  this  sub- 
ject,—  what  shall  be  attempted  for  the  child  who 
comes  from  the  kindergarten  all  ready  to  learn, 
but  as  yet  unacquainted  with  books  ?  I  answer, 
all,  and  more  than  all,  that  may  be  found  in  ele- 
mentary treatises  in  every  department  of  natural 
science  may  be  given  him  in  object-lessons,  in  a 
comparatively  short  time,  with  what  is  of  vastly 
more  importance  —  an  enthusiastic  love  for  these 
studies,  a  habit  of  careful  observation,  and  a  train- 
ing of  the  senses  which  shall  be  a  great  addition 
to  his  power  in  science,  art,  or  practical  life.  He 
may  at  the  same  time  lay  up  in  his  memory  the 
ground  facts  of  written  and  spoken  language  and 
mathematics.  Then,  by  natural  stages,  he  will 
turn  with  avidity  to  records  of  the  observations  of 
others,  until  a  conception  of  arrangement,  general- 
ization, and  inference  will  grow  up  within  him,  the 
dawn  of  a  higher  epoch  in  the  harmonious  educa- 
tion of  the  mind. 


CHAPTER   III. 

A  YEAR'S  EXPERIMENT  IN  TEACHING. 

I  HAD  the  good-fortune,  at  the  opening  of  the 
last  school  year,  to  receive  a  class  of  little  girls, 
whose  only  previous  school-training  had  been  in  a 
well  conducted  kindergarten.  Of  course,  they 
were  wide-awake,  and  fresh  for  study ;  they  made 
about  half  of  a  class  of  girls,  of  from  eight  to 
fourteen  years  of  age.  We  studied  United  States 
History,  with  Higginson's  text-book,  which  we 
read,  reviewed,  and  discussed,  until  I  think  they 
had  quite  a  clear  vision  of  the  course  of  events 
in  this  country  for  two  hundred  years  ;  certainly, 
they  were  thoroughly  interested  in  the  subject,  so 
that  they  listened  eagerly  to  any  additional  details 
or  accounts  I  could  give  them,  reading  three  or 
four  interesting  books  on  the  subject  of  the  earlier 
history,  and  examining  the  pictures  in  Lossing's 
Field-books  and  Catlin's  "  North  American  Ind- 
ians "  ;  they  also  read,  of  their  own  account, 

12 


A    YEAR'S  EXPERIMENT  IN  TEACHING.          13 

other  fragmentary  histories  or  tales  in  connec- 
tion. We  went  through  Dickens'  "  Child's  His- 
tory of  England  "  in  the  same  way,  with  a  great 
many  illustrations  from  various  sources.  We  had 
the  prominent  points  of  Greek  and  Roman  My- 
thology in  oral  lessons,  reading  aloud  most  of 
"  The  Age  of  Fable,"  of  which  excellent  abstracts 
were  written,  con  amore,  making  an  exercise  and 
study  which  proved  most  fascinating  to  them. 

We  reviewed  "  Miss  Hall's  Primary  Geogra- 
phy," which  had  been  read  to  them  at  the  kinder- 
garten, and  with  globe  and  photographic  views 
kindled  their  interest  to  a  flame,  and  passed  on  to 
the  higher  geography,  which  we  prefaced  with  oral 
lessons  in  astronomy,  and  made  our  way  nearly 
through  the  geography  of  the  United  States,  com- 
mitting the  text  to  memory,  and  drawing  maps, 
but  occupying  ourselves  chiefly  with  imaginary 
travels  and  plays  at  trade  and  commerce,  until  the 
unity  and  interchange  of  different  localities  and 
countries  were  well  understood  and  we  found 
unfailing  zeal  and  vivacity  pervading  the  recita- 
tions. 

Elementary  grammar  was  evolved  from  their 
own  unconscious  knowledge  of  the  language ; 


14         HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

and  when  their  statements  were  put  in  systematic 
order  on  the  blackboard,  I  showed  them,  to  their 
surprise  and  delight,  that  they  had  already  known 
all  that  was  contained  in  "  Greene's  Introduc- 
tion," and  could  parse  any  sentence  not  too  com- 
plicated for  their  perfect  comprehension.  Who 
that  had  seen  their  enthusiastic  joy  at  this  discov- 
ery could  have  remanded  them  back  to  the  old 
treadmill  of  grammar  lessons  ?  Dictation  exer- 
cises and  composition  they  became  very  fond  of, 
under  somewhat  the  same  method  of  instruction. 

In  reading  and  spelling  we  kept  up  a  con- 
stant exercise,  by  every  conceivable  variation  of 
means,  especially  dwelling  upon  exact  enunciation 
and  natural  expression  ;  and  we  had  weekly  recita- 
tions in  good  poetry,  which  were  attended  to  care- 
fully, wich  some  instruction  in  cloculion. 

As  to  mathematics,  we  had  mental  exercises  as 
often  as  seemed  advisable,  but  it  was  necessary  to 
restrain  their  excitement  by  irregular  attention  to 
it,  though  they  became  very  quick  and  skilful  in 
rapid  calculation.  We  studied  Numeration,  in- 
cluding, of  course,  Decimals,  and  Addition,  Sub- 
traction, Multiplication,  and  Division,  applying 
these  fundamental  principles  to  parts  of  numbers, 


A    YEAR'S  EXPERIMENT  IN  TEACHING.         15 

as  well  as  to  simple  and  denominate  numbers, 
thereby  covering  the  subjects  of  Fractions,  Deci- 
mals, United  States  Money,  Compound  Numbers, 
Metric  System,  and  simple  algebraic  quantities. 
We  took  up  Percentage,  and  some  of  its  applica- 
tions, where  the  close  of  the  year  left  us,  having 
treated  the  subject  thus  far  simply  as  varied  appli- 
cations of  the  rules  of  Numeration,  Addition,  and 
Subtraction,  always  deducing  the  rule  from  a  clear 
comprehension  of  the  method.  I  need  not  say 
that  all  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  study,  and  are 


anxious  to  go  on. 


The  spring  or  summer  term  we  devoted  to  the 
study  of  nature.  The  children  became  quite 
familiar  with  "  How  Plants  Grow,"  with  which 
they  reviewed  Botany,  after  oral  lessons  on  Miss 
Youmans'  plan,  analyzing  flowers  readily,  and  en- 
joying much  of  the  higher  and  more  delightful 
developments  of  the  study,  which  they  remem- 
bered after  once  learning:  e.g.,  the  propagation 
of  the  orchid ;  the  properties  of  tendrils ;  the 
multiplication  ol  cells,  etc. ;  for  it  is  the  opening 
of  these  intricate  and  beautiful  vistas  before  them 
which  most  excites  their  thirst  for  investigation. 

We  studied  the  forest  trees  of  New  England, 


16         now  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT* 

through  Mr.  Emerson's  book  and  by  walks  into 
the  living  woods,  and  examination  of  specimens. 
We  absorbed  all  that  "  Morse's  First  Book  of 
Zoology"  could  give  us;  also  Mrs.  Agassiz's  little 
book  on  Seashore  Curiosities,  besides  reading 
works  on  Land  Snails,  Butterflies,  and  other  in- 
sects. We  had  oral  lessons,  well  reviewed  by 
written  abstracts,  and  drawings  from  "  Land  and 
Game  Birds  of  New  England,"  so  that  summer 
found  us  with  our  arms  stretched  out,  and  our 
eyes  and  hearts  and  minds  open  to  embrace  her 
beauties  of  wood  and  field  and  seashore.  Physi- 
ology was  thoroughly  studied  as  far  as  is  usual  in 
our  high  schools,  and  proved  not  at  all  above  their 
comprehension  and  lively  interest. 

Drawing  was  practised  successfully  under  a 
special  teacher,  and  some  of  the  class  developed  a 
decided  love  and  taste  for  it,  making  copies  of 
flowers  or  animals  which  were  quite  worth  mount- 
ing and  using  as  gifts. 

Besides  these  English  branches,  they  all  learned 
to  talk  French  with  a  charmingly  pure  and  cor- 
rect accent  under  a  native  teacher,  whose  manner 
was  most  inspiring  to  the  class  :  they  went  nearly 
through  Sauveur's  "  Causeries  avec  mes  Enfants," 


A   YEAR'S  EXPERIMENT  IN  TEACHING.         1 7 

and  learned  a  few  of  Fontaine's  fables  by  heart, 
conversing  about  them  easily  with  their  teacher. 
They  could  play  a  French  game  quite  prettily  and 
intelligibly,  and  learned  by  rote  the  auxiliary 
verbs  and  verbs  of  the  first  conjugation.  They 
studied  German  by  much  the  same  method,  finally 
reading,  with  considerable  ease  and  delight, 
"  Grimm's  Tales "  in  the  original. 

This  is  a  careful  and  not  overdrawn  summary 
of  what  was  done  from  September  15  to  June  15, 
inclusive,  with  a  class  averaging  about  ten  years  of 
age,  with  very  little  out-of-school  study,  and  great 
enjoyment.  Our  promise  for  next  year  is  to  con- 
tinue French,  German,  and  Drawing,  commence 
Latin  and  General  History,  take  up  Astronomy 
and  Uranography  in  oral  lessons,  and  continue 
Geography  with  Miss  Hall's  work,  making  it  coin- 
cident in  outline  with  our  study  of  history,  as 
was,  I  am  told,  Miss  Hall's  original  plan  for  her 
book.  We  shall  go  as  far  with  the  details  of 
Grammar  and  the  construction  of  the  language  as 
the  interest  and  intelligence  of  the  class  can  be 
led,  and  introduce  them  to  the  study  of  English 
Literature.  We  shall  continue  Mathematics,  in- 
cluding Arithmetic,  Algebra,  and  Geometry,  only 


1 8         HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

as  far  as  they  can  see  the  reason  for  the  method 
of  operation  ;  for  I  by  no  means  agree  with  Presi- 
dent Hill,  in  giving  children  rules  to  learn  without 
the  idea  which  informs  them,  or  leading  them 
blindfold,  by  painful  steps,  to  the  temple  of  learn- 
ing. We  shall  pursue  Spelling,  Reading,  and 
Writing,  by  constant  but  not  tiresome  drill,  and, 
with  oral  lessons  on  various  subjects  bearing  on 
their  main  studies,  I  hope  to  advance  the  class  as 
much  in  love  of  study,  desire  to  learn,  develop- 
ment of  their  faculties,  and  attainment  of  knowl- 
edge, as  I  feel  confident  has  been  done  in  the  past 
year. 

I  should  not  omit  to  say  that  no  constraint  of 
any  kind  was  ever  put  upon  the  children,  to  secure 
their  effective  attention  and  study  or  for  their 
good  behavior ;  no  motive  of  emulation  was  intro- 
duced, to  urge  them  on  at  the  expense  of  their 
love  for  each  other ;  no  rules  of  manner  or  morals 
were  given  them,  except  those  they  voluntarily 
deduced  from  what  they  saw  to  be  the  necessary 
conditions  of  attentive  study  and  good  manners. 
I  am  free  to  say,  in  recommendation  of  this 
method  of  education,  that  it  awakens  and  develops 
the  mind  and  character  and  stimulates  the  love  of 


A   YEAR'S  EXPERIMENT  IN  TEACHING.         1 9 

learning  to  an  unusual  degree  ;  and  I  cannot  re- 
sist the  conviction  that  to  inspire  the  young  with 
an  enthusiastic  desire  to  know  all  that  God  has 
offered  to  their  comprehension,  to  give  their 
powers  full  play  in  all  these  infinitely  radiating 
channels  of  study,  making  learning  a  delight,  —  in 
some  cases  almost  an  ecstasy,  —  is  the  plan  of  na- 
ture in  the  development  of  a  child's  being. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   OPENING   SCHOOL. 

GOD  gives  you  these,  his  temples,  you  believe  : 
Fresh,  healthful  forms  of  beauty,  soul-lit  eyes, 

All  avenues  of  knowledge,  —  to  receive 

Hints  of  himself,  to  grow  pure,  good,  and  wise ; 

O,  make  their  lives  his  home !  keep  integral 

This  rhythmic,  triune  being,  —  body,  mind,  and  soul ! 

IT  is  near  nine  o'clock  :  the  teacher  awaits  her 
class  in  their  sunny  rooms,  and  sits  near  the 
organ,  with  her  little  two-year-old  in  her  lap  look- 
ing at  pictures.  One  by  one  the  fresh,  pleasant 
girls  come  in,  greeting  little  Belle  and  her  mother 
with  kisses  and  cheery  salutations.  There  is  no 
constraint  or  reluctance  in  their  glad  and  affec- 
tionate manner. 

Soon  the  hour  arrives,  and,  at  the  touch  of  the 
bell,  they  take  their  seats,  —  not  with  military 
precision  certainly,  nor  invariably  with  immediate 
silence,  but  with  the  spirit  of  good  order ;  the 
hush  comes  soon  of  itself,  and,  while  Minnie  or 
Alice  plays  the  accompaniment,  all  sing  a  hymn, 

20 


THE   OPENING  SCHOOL.  21 

usually  suggested  by  the  teacher,  but  often  by 
one  or  another  of  the  scholars  ;  in  most  cases  it  is 
a  prayer,  and  is  evidently  understood  by  all  as  a 
direct  appeal  to  the  unseen  One,  whom  they  love. 
Young  girls  are,  with  rare  exceptions,  religious  in 
their  nature.  In  them  the  senses  of  the  soul  are 
as  pure  and  delicate  as  those  of  the  body ;  they 
see  divine  realities  and  hear  divine  voices,  —  espe- 
cially the  voice  of  conscience, — if  not  hindered 
by  those  whose  "hearts  have  waxed  gross,"  and 
whose  "  ears  are  dull  of  hearing,"  and  whose  eyes 
have  closed.  How  easy  to  recognize  with  them, 
the  presence  of  God!  how  lovely  the  sight  of 
their  bright,  open  faces,  hallowed  by  an  unwaver- 
ing and  uncorrupted  faith,  —  like  flowers  of  the 
mornjjig,  upturned  to  the  glowing  heavens  and 

the  pure  air ! 
Sometimes  two  or  three  hymns  are  sung,  and 
occasionally  the  children  recite  together  some 
thanksgiving,  or  petition,  or  ascription  of  praise 
from  the  Bible.  In  connection  with  the  study  of 
the  outward  works  of  nature,  the  Psalm  cxlviii. 
comes  like  an  inspiration  from  their  understand- 
ing hearts  and  eager  lips,  and  sounds,  as  they 
repeat  it  together,  like  a  paean  of  consecration. 


HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD   BE   TAUGHT? 

They  have  no  postures  or  conventionalities  before 
the  Spirit  of  God,  nor  does  the  teacher  attempt  to 
conceal  the  attitude  of  her  own  heart,  whatever  it 
may  be,  nor  does  she  refrain  from  uttering  any 
aspiration,  as  beyond  the  sympathies  of  the  chil- 
dren, —  but  the  thought  and  feeling  of  the  hour 
flow  between  her  and  them  unfettered. 

Now  little  Belle  has  to  go,  since  she  tunes  her 
baby  voice  too  long ;  so  she  says  her  "  Good-bye," 
to  which  there  is  quick  response  as  she  throws 
her  kisses  back  in  departing,  and  the  quiet  group 
turn  to  the  Gospel-reading  with  unfeigned  inter- 
est. There  is  more  or  less  comment  as  they  read, 
singly  or  in  concert,  and  geographical  or  historical 
associations  are  recalled,  or  a  deeper  tone  is  taken 
in  drawing  their  thoughts  to  the  spiritual  lesson. 
But  the  Bible-reading  is  carried  on  with  frequent 
variation  of  method :  in  connection  with  the  study 
of  Ancient  History  it  was  made  a  panorama  of 
Hebrew  history  and  its  correlations  with  other 
nations,  and  the  strong  pictures  that  mark 
different  epochs  were  thrown  out  before  them 
with  great  freedom  of  selection.  Sometimes  the 
teacher  reads  from  the  French  or  German  Testa- 
ment, while  the  children  follow  each  verse  with 


THE  OPENING  SCHOOL.  23 

concert-reading  of  the  English  ;  for  quite  a  long 
time  each  pupil  had  in  turn  the  charge  of  select- 
ing and  reading  the  lesson  and  the  hymn. 

Now,  if  there  is  any  special  message  to  these 
loving  young  souls  from  the  mother's  heart  that 
tries  to  guide  them,  it  is  given,  with  brevity  and 
tender  directness,  out  of  her  faith  or  out  of  her 
experience  of  life,  or  from  her  standard  of  good 
manners  and  refined  feeling,  —  any  yearning 
toward  the  beautiful  possibilities  of  their  nature, 
—  she  expresses  it  with  at  least  an  earnest  sym- 
pathy and  a  magnetic  impulse  of  desire  which  is 
never  wholly  disappointed  in  their  responsive  con- 
sider"ation  and  reception. 

"Truth  "  is  the  motto  of  the  school, — truth  in 
essence  and  in  manner.  Last  year  they  had  their 
badges  embroidered  in  gold,  "  Die  Wahrheit  "  ; 
this  year  the  word  "Truth"  is  printed  there 
instead,  and  is  understood  to  be  the  talisman  of 
their  endeavor.  They  are  taught  to  avoid  disguise 
and  insincerity,  and  to  regulate  the  sources  of 
emotion,  that  its  involuntary  expression  may  be 
right.  If  there  is  an  amusing  suggestion  or  force 
in  the  accidents  of  any  exercise,  they  are  allowed 
to  laugh  without  restraint,  and  it  never  really  dis- 


24        HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

turbs  the  mood  or  seriously  interrupts  the  atten- 
tion ;  for  a  spontaneous  smile  or  hearty  laugh, 
which  is  not  pent  in,  passes  with  the  instant,  and 
healthfully  relieves  the  feelings. 

No  time  is  needed  for  the  calling  of  the  roll  or 
the  hearing  of  excuses,  as  no  occasion  has  yet 
arisen  for  any  exactions  in  regard  to  attendance, 
and  a  vacancy  among  the  beaming  faces  is  dis- 
covered and  explained  at  once  ;  so  at  the  touch  of 
the  bell,  the  class  separates  into  its  distinctive 
rooms  for  the  more  specific  training  of  the  mind. 

It  is  needless  to  say  to  other  teachers  that 
the  high  ideal  of  the  controlling  mind  is  never 
reached  ;  but  it  is  confidently  believed  that  the 
teacher  must  be  superior  to  the  arts  of  discipline 
and  rules  of  method,  and  must  mould  the  fine 
material  before  her  chiefly  by  native  force  of 
soul. 

It  has  been  a  difficult  task  to  portray  the  intan- 
gible influences  that  enter  into  the  fifteen,  twenty, 
or  thirty  minutes  of  the  opening  of  the  school ; 
but  if  the  home-element  shall  seem  predominant, 
the  attempt  will  not  have  proved  altogether  a 
failure. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    KEY-NOTE. 

%/• 

As  I  carried  in  my  mind  the  theme  of  this 
paper,  my  eye  met  a  paragraph  in  the  September 
Teacher,  which  is  so  forcible  and  concise  an  ex- 
pression of  what  I  feel  to  be  the  motif 'of  my  "  exper- 
iment in  teaching,"  that  I  might  use  it  as  a  text : 
"  The  object  of  education  ought  to  be  to  develop 
in  the  individual  all  the  perfection  of  which  he  is 
capable."  —  Kant.  As  the  Delphic  oracle  in- 
structed Cicero  to  "follow  Nature,  and  not  take 
the  opinion  of  the  multitude  for  his  guide,"  so, 
more  and  more,  do  intuition  and  experience  say  to 
the  teacher  of  children,  "  Attune  your  ear  to  the 
whispers  of  Nature  that  you  may  discern  the 
secret  of  education. " 

As  a  mother,  I  am  most  concerned  that  each 
child  in  the  embrace  of  home  shall  receive  from 
me  what  it  needs  for  its  physical,  mental,  and 

25 


26        HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE   TAUGHT? 

moral  development.  There  is  great  diversity  in 
this  small  circle  ;  a  difference  of  temperament, 
of  tendencies,  of  tastes,  of  natural  powers,  and 
natural  wants.  I  must  administer  to  each,  adapt 
myself  to  each,  meet  each  on  its  own  track.  So, 
in  a  school,  the  teacher  must  be  as  the  mother, 
to  devise  and  provide  for  each  one  ;  she  must  dis- 
cern the  native  stamp  of  the  individual  pupil,  the 
character  of  its  organization.  When  she  is  thor- 
oughly acquainted  with  the  child,  has  drawn  near 
to  it  in  an  atmosphere  of  loving  appreciation,  and 
placed  herself  en  rapport  with  its  intrinsic  being, 
then  she  is  prepared  to  teach  it ;  and  her  teaching 
on  that  footing  will  be  not  merely  the  work  of  the 
recitation-hour,  nor  of  some  departments  of  in- 
struction, but  a  deep  influence  acting  everywhere  ; 
whether  in  school  or  out  of  school,  —  acting,  as  I 
can  bear  witness,  through  the  whole  lifetime  of 
that  child,  and  the  subject  of  a  life-long  gratitude. 
Nature  emphatically  forbids  me  to  try  the 
mechanical  process,  which  treats  children  in  the 
aggregate,  and  seeks  to  produce  a  dead-level  of 
uniformity  in  the  school  ;  Nature  warns  me  from 
merely  conventional  ruts  and  unthinking  manner- 
isms. My  mother-heart  knows  better  than  this. 


THE  KEY-NOTE.  2? 

Do  I  want  my  child  made  like  every  other  child  ? 
No,  a  thousand  times!  Let  her  be  herself, — 
trained,  developed,  ennobled,  but  always  herself ; 
her  individuality  perfect,  her  identity  complete  ; 
for,  though  millions  of  children  arise  in  the  land, 
there  will  never  be  another  like  this  one.  I  want 
to  see  her  face  glow  with  the  radiance  which  can 
be  lit  on  no  other  brow,  and  her  soul  dressed  in 
the  beautiful  garments  which  were  prepared  for 
her  from  the  foundation  of  the  world.  Let  those 
who  teach  her  consult  the  oracle  of  her  nature, 
discover  the  hints  within  her  as  to  what  sort  of 
woman  she  should  become,  never  lose  sight  of  her 
in  the  crowd,  nor  confound  her  with  her  neighbor ; 
but  keep  her  undistorted,  uncramped,  ungraded, 
—  her  being  wrought  upon  according  to  God's 
pattern  for  her  alone.  This  is  what  I  ask  for  my 
child,  and  therefore  what  I  demand  of  myself  as 
the  teacher  of  some  other  mother's  child.  Her 
child  is  as  unique  as  mine ;  I  must  make  no 
encroachment  on  its  ideal  individuality,  nor  at- 
tempt to  trim  and  fit  its  original  powers  to  an 
unyielding  standard.  The  school  of  the  rule  and 
plumb  is  a  machine-shop  ;  with  its  constant  meas- 
urements and  tests,  its  ranks  and  examinations,  it 


28         ffO IV  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

grinds  down  these  clear-cut  crystals  of  mind  into 
a  dead  mass ;  it  stops  to  pour  all  the  brains  within 
its  reach  through  a  weekly  sieve,  till  all  distinctive 
qualities  are  lost,  and  not  one  of  the  fine  units 
can  be  distinguished  from  the  still  disintegrated 
whole. 

Why  is  it  thought  necessary  to  know  and 
exhibit  the  comparative  progress  and  attainment 
constantly  ?  Is  it  possible  for  us  to  put  one  mind 
so  by  another  as  to  decide  "  this  is  higher,"  "  that 
is  lower "  ?  Brain-power  has  too  many  outlets 
and  modes  of  growth  to  be  subjected  to  such 
crude  valuations.  I  will  have  no  comparisons 
made  among  my  children.  I  will  allow  none  in 
my  school ;  the  only  relative  test  I  will  put  is  the 
test  of  conscience,  —  Do  you  rank  well  in  the 
scale  of  your  possibilities  ? 

In  a  small  private  school,  such  as  has  been  dis- 
cussed in  these  papers,  there  is,  perhaps,  an  unu- 
sual inequality  in  powers  and  attainments.  It 
often  happens  that  a  child  who  is  peculiar,  or 
who  has  had  an  exceptional  course  of  training  or 
want  of  training,  one  whose  health  requires 
singular  care,  or  whose  education  has  been  from 
some  cause  irregularly  carried  on,  is  placed  in 


THE  KEY-NOTE.  2Q 

such  a  "  select "  school.  The  class,  thus  made 
up  of  difficult  and  heterogeneous  elements,  can 
hardly  be  treated  as  a  whole,  and  yet,  in  externals, 
it  must  be  to  some  extent  a  unit ;  but  with  the 
subtle  insight  and  magnetic  forces  which  the 
teacher,  as  well  as  the  physician,  requires  and 
must  be  able  to  command,  we  must  treat  each 
mind  as  distinctly  as  a  skilful  physician  would 
treat  each  separate  patient.  We  must  perceive 
and  appreciate  the  instant  want  and  difficulty  in 
each  case,  and  with  imperceptible  and  sometimes 
unconscious  skill  keep  each  mind  supplied  and 
alive.  Yes,  let  us  keep  each  mind  alive  before 
us,  —  breathing  vitalizing  air  from  the  realm  in 
which  we  are  acting  as  guide  or  priestess,  and 
then,  indeed,  we  are  doing  our  whole  work  as 
teachers.  If  I  try  to  awaken  in  each  child  within 
my  keeping  the  activities  of  which  it  is  capable, 
develop  the  gifts  with  which  nature  has  endowed 
it,  round  out  and  perfect  the  being  in  its  indi- 
vidual beauty,  finish  the  typical  design,  and  assist 
the  creative  purpose  in  the  formation  of  that 
soul,  what  more  absorbing  interest  or  responsi- 
bility can  I  assume?  If  I  appreciate  it,  I  shall 
bring  all  the  enthusiasm  and  sympathy  of  my 


30        HO W  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT* 

nature,  as  well  as  all  the  attainments  of  my  life, 
to  bear  upon  it. 

And  as  in  the  educational  economy  of  Christian- 
ity we  find  a  most  exact  model  for  such  a  method, 
—  the  teacher  having  secret  sympathy  and  power 
with  each  disciple,  —  so  is  it  not  possible  that  the 
parallel  may  be  extended  ;  and,  even  in  our  far- 
distant  following  of  His  ways  of  working,  the 
phenomenon  of  seeming  miracle  may  still  present 
itself,  —  miracle  which  is  only  the  normal  result 
of  a  deeper  understanding  with  nature ;  a  result 
which,  for  merely  mechanical  and  superficial 
methods,  is  simply  impossible. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ARITHMETIC. 

WE  believe  in  the  importance  of  accuracy  and 
rapidity  in  all  simple  mental  operations,  and  the 
arithmetic  classes  are,  therefore,  exercised,  some- 
times individually,  oftener  in  concert,  in  this 
work,  until  they  can  sustain  quite  a  protracted 
succession  of  mathematical  operations,  including 
many  which,  being  performed  by  contraction, 
sound  much  more  difficult  than  they  are,  —  so 
that  an  examination  of  the  class  in  presence  of 
visitors  will  cause  quite  a  sensation,  and  a  feeling 
that  some  wonderful  feat  has  been  accomplished ; 
but  the  facility  is  very  easily  acquired. 

In  beginning  the  study  of  written  arithmetic, 
the  writing  and  reading  of  numbers  is  taught  so 
that  the  system  of  a  uniform  ratio  of  ten  is  clear, 
and  appeals  to  their  logical  sense.  This  includes 
decimal  fractions,  which  are  nothing  else  but  a 
legitimate  and  integral  part  of  the  system.  It  is 

31 


32         HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

just  as  simple  a  matter  to  carry  on  the  decrease 
by  tens  to  the  right  of  the  decimal  point  as  at  the 
left ;  let  us  not  interrupt  the  unity  of  the  standard 
of  numeration.  The  use  of  the  cipher  should  be 
made  very  plain,  for  it  gives  a  key  to  the  position 
of  the  numerical  classes.  Who  that  was  in  the 
class  of  arithmetic  under  the  instruction  of  Mr. 
Stearns,  in  the  West  Newton  Normal  School,  has 
forgotten  the  emphasis  of  that  oft-repeated  state- 
ment, "The  cipher  means  simply  that  there  is 
nothing  here"?  The  idea  and  manner  of  chang- 
ing figures  of  one  kind  to  those  of  another,  either 
by  this  system  of  tens  or  by  one  of  twelves,  or  by 
others  of  varied  ratios,  can  be  made  plain  and 
fixed  clearly  in  the  mind,  —  and  much  of  the 
succeeding  work  is  simplified  when  this  is  done. 
It  becomes  an  easy  matter  to  teach  addition  and 
subtraction  of  any  figures  or  quantities  after  the 
axiom  is  thoroughly  established,  that  only  things 
of  the  same  kind  can  be  added  or  subtracted. 

After  plenty  of  drill  in  these  operations  the 
class  is  led  to  discover,  by  repeated  and  regular 
additions  and  subtractions,  the  multiplication  and 
division  tables,  which  should  never  be  given  as  an 
arbitary  standard  or  invention  of  man,  but  only  as 


ARITHMETIC.  33 

a  statement  of  inherent  properties  which  are  just 
as  much  within  their  original  observations  as  any 
other  facts  of  nature.  It  is  astonishing  how 
much  of  arithmetic  a  child  can  discover  if  placed 
at  the  right  outlook. 

Of  course,  although  the  instruction  can  be 
carried  thus  far  in  a  short  time,  so  that  the  pupils 
may  be  said  to  know  and  understand  the  princi- 
ples, yet  a  long  time  is  requisite  for  skill  and  ease 
in  practice.  Simple  numbers,  compound  num- 
bers, decimals,  United  States  money,  metric 
system,  duodecimals,  proportions,  and  fractions, 
put  down  as  so  many  distinct  arithmetical  sub- 
jects in  most  text-books,  and  alarming  on  that 
account,  are  but  the  variety  of  material  on  which 
to  expend  all  this  practice  in  reduction,  addition, 
and  subtraction ;  and  this  practice  should  be 
vitalized  by  the  interest  of  personality.  Trade  is 
very  attractive  to  children.  "  Oh  I  admire  bills," 
says  Mabel ;  and  Bertha  remarks,  "  Mamma 
always  takes  us  shopping  with  her  now,  to  see 
that  she  gets  the  right  change."  They  go  shop- 
ping with  money  in  their  pockets,  —  our  easy 
currency ;  they  cross  the  water  and  flock  into  a 
London  shop,  with  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence, 


34          HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

and  Maggie  very  pertinently  inquires  why  the 
German  and  the  French  money  are  left  out  of  the 
arithmetic.  They  learn  to  manage  the  grocer's, 
the  apothecary's,  and  the  dry-goods  standards  of 
measure,  and  hope  that  the  day  will  soon  arrive 
when  the  gram,  the  metre,  and  the  litre  will  take 
their  place. 

The  properties  of  numbers,  —  factors,  —  the 
greatest  common  divisor,  the  least  common 
multiple,  can  be  presented  and  understood  as 
something  quite  interesting, — and  fractions  can 
be  dealt  with  in  the  light  of  that  essential  princi- 
ple, that  quantities  must  be  made  of  a  like  kind 
in  order  to  be  added  or  subtracted,  so  that  all 
their  difficulties  vanish,  and  the  method  can  be 
easily  discovered  by  the  children.  All  these  can 
be  introduced  incidentally,  and  conquered  natur- 
ally and  unconsciously,  until  the  mind  of  the  pupil 
becomes  familiar  with  them.  Why  need  they  be 
announced  with  the  clamoring  bugbear  of  a  new 
title  ?  Experiment  and  induction  will  lead  the 
pupil  into  all  these  processes,  under  a  little  tact 
and  skill  on  the  part  of  the  teacher. 

It  is  best  to  avoid  the  rules  and  remarks  in  the 
books ;   the  books  are  of  no  use  to  the  teacher 


ARITHMETIC.  35 

except  for  the  examples,  and  even  there  it  adds 
much  interest  for  the  pupils  to  invent  examples 
to  some  extent.  The  rule  in  the  formidable 
terminology  of  the  books  is  a  snag  that  will 
founder  any  little  bark,  however  fairly  launched  ; 
as  a  summary,  when  the  child  is  quite  familiar 
with  the  operation,,  it  may  serve  a  fair  purpose, 
and  is  easily  explained,  but  beware  of  it  any 
further  in  the  child's  mathematical  career! 

Proportion  should  be  made  a  form  of  writing 
fractions,  and  both  presented  as  an  expression  of 
division.  Interest,  in  all  its  branches,  is  no  more 
a  part  of  arithmetic  than  renting  a  house  or  any 
other  transaction  involving  money,  and  based  on 
the  arbitrary  determinations  of  the  exchange  or 
the  statutes  ;  but,  being  subject  to  the  application 
of  arithmetical  processes,  stands  connected  with 
the  science  as  astronomy  and  mechanics  do  with 
the  higher  mathematics. 

The  pupils  must  understand  this  very  clearly  ; 
viz.,  that  arithmetic  is  learned  when  the  proper- 
ties of  numbers  and  the  methods  of  addition  and 
subtraction  are  mastered  ;  that  all  the  rest  is  but 
its  application  to  trade  and  business  and  science, 
—  for  the  square  and  cube  root,  involution  and 


3'       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

evolution,    should    be    relegated    to    algebra   and 
geometry,  where  they  belong. 

How  simple  and  attractive  is  the  study  of 
numbers  inductively  considered  and  stripped  of 
all  its  excrescences  !  all  the  various  and  sounding 
lists  of  the  index  resolve  themselves  into  a  few 
simple  outlines,  of  which  the  various  sub-divisions 
only  furnish  material  for  the  pupil  to  work  upon 
with  the  tools  which  the  unencumbered  science 
of  arithmetic  puts  into  his  hands. 


THE     CLASS     IN     ARITHMETIC.  ITS     FIRST     INTRO- 
DUCTION   TO    COMPOUND    NUMBERS. 

Maggie,  Bertha,  Mabel,  Louie,  Carrie,  Anna,  Alice,  Gertrude,  Lillie;  all  from 
eight  to  ten  years  old. 

Teacher.  —  There  sits  Emmie,  looking  at  her 
ivy.  Beg  pardon,  Emmie  ;  but  where  did  you  get 
that  dress  ? 

Emmie.  —  My  auntie  bought  it  when  we  were 
in  London  ;  it  is  a  Scotch  dress. 

Teacher.  —  So  I  thought.  It  is  very  pretty. 
Did  she  pay  for  it  in  dollars  and  cents  ? 

Emmie.  —  No  'm ;  it  cost  eighteen  shillings  in 
English  money. 


ARITHMETIC. 

Bertha.  —  Oh,  I    know   about   English 
Clara  bought  us  a  great  many  things  in   Lon< 
and  she  told  me  all  about  it. 

Maggie.  —  I  should  like  to  go  shopping  there ; 
how  funny ! 

TeacJier.  —  Well,  let's  go  this  morning.  Play 
we  are  in  London.  Have  you  any  money  in  your 
pockets  ?  I  will  say  your  fathers  have  given  you 
each  ^3  to  spend ;  but  I  am  glad,  for  your  con- 
venience, it  isn't  all  in  pound-notes,  but  a  two- 
pound-note,  eighteen  shilling-pieces,  and  twenty- 
four  pence,  one  of  which  is  worth  nearly  two 
cents. 

Mabel.  —  Why,  is  that  the  same  as  three 
pounds  ? 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  if  I  reckoned  rightly.  It  takes 
twelve  pence  to  make  a  shilling,  and  twenty  shil- 
lings to  make  a  pound.  Let  us  write  it  down. 
Twenty-four  pence  would  then  be  two  shillings, 
and  those,  added  to  eighteen  shillings,  make  twenty 
shillings,  —  just  the  one  pound  we  need  to  make, 
with  the  two-pound  note,  three  pounds.  Now,  we 
will  buy  some  pretty  things  for  our  friends,  this 
morning.  Nella,  do  you  remember  the  exhibit  of 
English  pottery  at  the  Centennial  ?  "  Yes  "  ;  well, 


3  HO W  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

as  it  is  the  fashion  to  buy  such  things,  let  us  go 
into  this  large  warehouse  of  "James  Stiff  &  Sons," 
and  choose  our  purchases.  You  may  say,  in  turn, 
what  you  will  buy. 

Mabel.  —  I  want  a  majolica  tete-a-tete  set  for  my 
mother,  on  which  I  can  take  up  her  supper  when 
she  is  sick. 

Teacher.  — Very  well  ;  I  write  that  down  here, 
while  those  who  know  may  describe  the  majolica 
ware.  [The  description  is  quite  full  and  plain 
from  two  or  three.]  I  will  say  that  the  price  of 
it  is  ;£i  i2s. 

Bertha.  —  I  will  take  two  terra-cotta  vases. 

Teacher.  —  Describe  them,  Bertha  ;  you  say 
you  have  two  or  three  terra-cotta  ornaments  at 
home.  I  will  put  your  purchase  down  under 
Mabel's;  it  comes  to  I2s. 

Louie. — I  would  like  a  few  handsome  tiles  for 
Auntie  May. 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  four  Staffordshire  tiles  come  to 
8s.  [Alice,  Gertrude,  and  Lillie  don't  know  what 
they  want,  and,  as  they  are  younger,  the  teacher 
chooses  for  them  :  A  pretty  tea-pot  for  Alice's 
mother,  called  a  Rockingham  tea-pot,  for  which 
she  must  pay  ics.  ;  a  Parian  statuette  of  Cupid 


ARITHMETIC.  39 

for  Gertrude's  purchase,  worth  £i  6s. ;  and  a 
beautiful  platter,  of  Lambeth  pottery,  worth 
£i  1 8s.,  for  Lillie  to  give  her  papa.] 

Anna.  —  Oh  !  can  I  buy  some  of  those  lovely 
little  majolica  butter-dishes  ?  I  know  they  cost 
$4  a  dozen  here. 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  indeed ;  here  are  some  like 
fern-leaves,  and  some  like  shells,  —  they  are  only 
i os.  a  dozen. 

Anna.  —  Then  I  want  a  table  ornament,  too,  in 
that  flowered  china,  or  that  with  birds  on  it. 

Teacher.  —  We  will  put  it  down  :  Butter-dishes, 
IDS.  ;  table  ornament,  in  Faience  ware,  £,1  I2s. 

Maggie.  —  What  shall  I  have  ?     I  can't  think. 

Bertha.  —  Oh,  Maggie !  you  and  Carrie  get 
some  fruit  medallions  for  your  mother  to  hang  in 
the  dining-room.  I  have  seen  them  ;  they  are  as 
nice  as  pictures. 

Teacher.  —  Very  well ;  Carrie  and  Maggie  get 
three  medallions  each  for  £2  a  half-dozen,  — you 
will  have  to  divide  the  expense  afterward. 
Maggie  may  pay  it  now.  I  will  buy  two  dozen 
pretty  cups  for  the  scholars  to  keep  on  their 
tables.  The  price  is  -£i  per  dozen;  how  much 
is  that  apiece  ? 


4°         HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Anna. — Well,  I  know  what  they  would  cost 
apiece  if  they  were  a  dollar  a  dozen  ;  but  — 

Maggie.  —  Well,  can't  we  divide  a  pound  by 
twelve  ? 

Teacher. — Of  course;  what  does  the  pound 
make  twenty  of  ? 

Several.  —  Oh  !  shillings  !  change  it  to  shillings. 

BertJia.  —  Twenty  shillings  divided  by  twelve  is 
one  shilling  and  eight  over. 

Teacher.  —  Now,  change  the  eight  shillings  left 
into  pence,  and  divide  that  by  twelve.  In  one 
shilling  there  are  twelve  pence,  so  in  eight  shil- 
lings there  will  be  — 

All.  —  Ninety-six  pence. 

Maggie.  —  And  twelve  will  go  in  ninety-six 
eight  times. 

Bertha.  —  It  will  be  one  shilling  and  eight 
pence. 

Teacher.  —  What  will  ? 

All.  —  One  of  the  cups. 

Teacher.  —  Do  you  understand,  Carrie  ? 

Carrie.  —  I  sort  of  half  do  and  half  don't. 

Teacher.  —  Pretty  soon  you  shall  all  be  sure ; 
but  attend  now  to  this.  We  will  find  out  how 
large  our  bill  is  at  Messrs.  Stiff's  store  :  — 


ARITHMETIC.  41 

£  * 

Majolica  tete-a-tete  set  for  Mabel     .     .     .     .  112 

2  Terra-cotta  vases  for  Bertha       ....  12 

4  Staffordshire  tiles  for  Louie  ....-»  8 

i   Rockingham  tea-pot  for  Alice    ....  10 

I   Parian  statuette  for  Gertrude      ....  I     6 

I   Lambeth  Platter. for  Lillie I    18 

i  Dozen  Majolica  butters  for  Anna    .     .     ,  10 

1  Table  ornament,  Faience,  for  Anna     .     .  112 
6  Medallions,    Lambeth  pottery,  for  Mag- 
gie and  Carrie ...20 

2  Dozen  cups  for  the  teacher 20 

Bertha.  —  I  admire  bills.  My  mamma  always 
takes  me  shopping  with  her  now,  to  reckon 
quickly  and  find  what  change  she  ought  to  get. 

Teacher.  —  Bertha  and  Maggie  may  add  these 
pounds  and  shillings  on  the  board,  the  rest  on 
their  slates.  Alice,  Gertrude,  and  Carrie,  come 
close  around  me,  and  let  me  help  you.  Come, 
too,  if  you  want  to,  Lillie.  [After  five  minutes' 
work,  all  attend  to  the  board.] 

Carrie.  —  Maggie's  is  added  one  way,  and 
Bertha's  the  other.  Bertha's  is  like  ours,  so 
Maggie's  is  wrong. 


42        HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Maggie.  —  No;  my  answer  is  just  the  same, 
only  I  added  the  pounds  first,  and  Bertha  the 
shillings.  Is  mine  wrong,  Mrs.  ? 

Teacher.  —  No,  Maggie ;  but  it  is  usual  and 
easier  to  add  the  smaller  kinds  first  —  just  as  you 
add  the  units  before  you  do  the  tens.  Well,  you 
add  the  shillings  ;  it  makes  — 

All.  —  Eighty-eight  shillings. 

Teacher.  —  And  if  every  twenty  shillings  is  a 
pound,  how  many  pounds  are  here  ? 

All.  —  Four  pounds  and  eight  shillings. 

Teacher.  —  And  what  shall  we  do  with  the 
pounds,  Mabel  ? 

Mabel.  —  Add  them  to  the  pounds,  I  should 
think. 

Bertha.  —  Why,  of  course  you  do,  and  it  makes 
twelve  pounds. 

Teacher.  —  Yes ;  we  have  spent  altogether 
,£12  8s.  Now,  we  will  find  out  how  much 
change  we  should  each  have.  Mabel  had  ^"3, 
and  spent  £,1  I2s.  ;  she  may  find  out,  at  the 
board,  what  she  has  left.  Bertha  spent  but  I2s. 
of  hers,  Louie  only  8s.  ;  they  may  work  theirs 
out,  too. 

Mabel.  —  Why,  I  don't  know  how  to  begin. 


ARITHMETIC.  43 

Teacher.  —  See  how  I  write  it  down  :  — 

£  s- 

2    2O 

(Isn't  £2  2Os.  the  same  as  £$  ?)  112 


£i     8s. 

Mabel.  —  Yes,  now  I  see.  I  shall  have  £i  8s. 
left.  Oh,  goody  !  I  can  buy  some  more  things. 

Teacher.  —  We  will  go  into  a  lace  and  dry-goods 
store  another  day  ;  so  you  must  be  prepared  at 
the  next  lesson  to  show  what  you  wish  to  buy 
there. 

Bertha.  —  I  have  £2  8s.  left.  I  changed  one 
of  my  £$  to  shillings,  and  took  my  I2s.  from  it; 
so,  of  course,  I  had  £2  8s.  left. 

Teacher.  —  Mabel,  you  may  go  show  Carrie  how 
to  find  what  she  will  have  left ;  Bertha  may  show 
Alice,  and  Maggie  may  show  any  one  else  — 
Gertrude,  if  she  will.  [After  all  is  clear  in  adding 
and  subtracting,  the  teacher  gives  them  the  table 
of  English  money,  which  she  has  written  in  full  on 
the  blackboard  ;  takes  them  through  the  process 
of  reduction  and  multiplication,  which  she  finds 
them  quite  ready  to  suggest  for  themselves,  step 
by  step,  and  finally  points  out  the  dozen  or  half- 


44        HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

dozen  examples  in  English  money  —  scattered 
through  many  pages  of  the  arithmetic — for  them 
to  work  out  before  the  next  lesson,  telling  them, 
however,  to  be  sure  not  to  read  over  anything  in 
the  book  about  it,  and  particularly  no  rules.] 

Bertha.  —  Are  French  money,  and  German 
money,  and  all  those,  in  the  arithmetic  ? 

Teacher.  —  No  ;  only  English  money.  It  is 
not  a  part  of  arithmetic ;  only  one  of  the  ways 
of  using  arithmetic  in  trade.  I  don't  know  why 
they  put  no  other  kind  of  money  in  the  book  for 
you  to  work  upon. 

Lottie.  —  Well,  I  didn't  care  about  knowing  it ; 
for  I  never  shall  buy  anything  in  England  —  they 
were  so  horrid  in  the  Revolutionary  War. 

,  TeacJier.  —  The  half-hour  is  over.  You  have 
learned  quite  a  good  deal.  They  have  some  funny 
names  for  it  in  the  book. 

Carrie.  —  Please  tell  us  what  they  are. 

Teacher.  —  Table  of  English  Money,  Reduction 
Ascending,  Reduction  Descending,  Addition  of 
Denominate  Numbers ;  also,  Subtraction,  Multi- 
plication, and  Division  of  Denominate  Numbers. 
[A  shout  of  laughter.] 

After  this  lesson,  which  was  full  of  interest  and 


ARITHMETIC.  45 

conversation,  of  which  only  the  outline  is  reported, 
the  class  were  exercised  during  subsequent  les- 
sons in  making  purchases,  in  inventing  and  work- 
ing out  examples,  until  every  member  of  the  class 
was  quite  at  home  in  the  different  processes  with 
English  money,  since  which  they  find  no  diffi- 
culty in  applying  the  principles  to  any  of  the 
tables  of  weights  and  measures  ;  although  it  is 
not  the  intention  of  the  teacher  to  keep  them 
long  upon  those  standards,  which,  it  is  hoped,  will 
soon  become  obsolete,  but  to  proceed  at  once  to 
the  Metric  System,  which  requires  but  a  lesson  or 
two,  as  it  is  a  decimal  system,  and  its  terminology 
is  so  interesting.  The  class  is  warned  off  from 
the  rules,  and  anything  in  the  book  except  the 
examples,  until  the  time  comes  for  using  the 
rules  as  a  summary  of  our  discoveries. 


CLASS    IN    ARITHMETIC. INTRODUCTION    TO 

FINANCE. 

Alice,  Minnie,  Leila,  Hattie,  Helen,  Ethel,  Sarah,  Alice;  from  n  to  14  years  old. 

Teacher.  —  You  have  studied  Arithmetic  and 
its  application  to  trade  ;  let  us  now  attend  to  its 
practical  application  to  the  most  exciting  business 


46        HO W  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

of  city  life.  You  know  what  gold  and  silver  coin 
is,  and  how  it  is  used  in  exchange  for  all  our 
wants:  what  else  do  we  have  in  our  purses, 
Hattie,  that  will  purchase  things  ? 

Hattie.  —  Why,  we  have  bank-bills. 

Teacher.  —  What  makes  these  of  any  value, 
more  than  any  other  paper  ?  (Showing  a  bank- 
note.)  Read  it ;  it  is  an  agreement  to  pay  five 
dollars  on  demand.  (The  bill  is  examined  by  all.) 

Minnie.  —  Are  all  bank-bills  like  this  ? 

Teacher.  —  They  are  substantially  the  same,  — 
notes,  with  a  promise  to  pay  engraved  on  the  face, 
"promissory  notes,"  or  "notes  of  hand";  though 
these  names  are  given  to  similar  promises  which 
are  not  current  as  money.  You  can  get  gold  or 
silver  at  a  bank  for  these.  What  is  a  bank, 
Alice  ? 

Alice.  —  I  think  it  is  a  sort  of  office. 

Leila.  —  It's  a  place  to  keep  money  in. 

Hattie.  —  Yes,  I've  seen  the  safe  and  the  clock- 
key,  and  they  have  piles  and  piles  of  money ! 
Where  do  they  get  it  ? 

TeacJier.  —  A  bank  is  a  company  of  men  called 
stock-holders,  who  have  put  a  good  deal  of  their 
money  together  to  make  the  "  capital "  of  the 


ARITHMETIC.  47 

bank ;  they  lend  and  borrow  money.  They 
choose  officers  to  do  the  work,  and  the  two  prin- 
cipal officers  (the  President  and  Cashier)  sign 
their  names  to  all  these  promises  or  bank-notes, 
for  a  promise  is  good  for  nothing  without  a  signa- 
ture. The  bank  will  keep  your  money  safe  for 
you,  or  will  lend  you  money  if  you  pay  for  the  use 
of  it ;  some  banks  not  only  keep  your  money  safe 
for  you,  but  pay  you  for  the  use  of  it  while  they 
hold  it,  returning  it  to  you  with  that  profit  or 
interest. 

Helen.  —  I  know,  that  is  the  Savings  Bank.  I 
have  $25  in  it,  and  more  is  added  to  it  every  year. 

Minnie.  —  My  uncle  put  $100  in  the  bank  for 
me  last  New  Year's  Day,  and  he  means  to  put 
more  in  every  year,  so  that  when  I  am  grown  up  I 
shall  have  a  good  deal. 

Teacher.  —  Let  me  show  you  how  much  interest 
Helen's  money  gains  every  year.  The  bank  pays 
her  six  cents  a  year  for  every  dollar  she  has  there, 
or  six  cents  per  hundred,  —  six  per  cent.  She 
has  $25.00 :  how  much  will  they  pay  her  the  first 
year. 

Alice.  — $1.50. 

Teacher.  — Add  it  to  the  principal,  $25.00;  you 


4  HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

have  $26.50,  the  amount  at  the  end  of  the  first 
year.  Now  this  is  the  principal  of  the  second 
year,  and  what  will  be  the  interest  the  second 
year  ? 

Helen.  —  $1.59;  and  the  amount  will  be  $28.09. 

Teacher.  —  Right :  get  the  amount  for  the  third 
year,  —  all. 

Ethel.  —  $29. 7754. 

Teacher.  —  So  you  see  that  in  three  years 
Helen's  money  has  gained  nearly  $5.00.  It  is 
better  to  keep  your  spare  money  in  the  savings 
bank  than  in  your  house,  for  you  get  "  compound 
interest"  on  it;  but  if  you  lend  your  money  to  a 
private  person,  he  will  pay  you  six  per  cent  on 
the  original  principal  only,  as  long  as  he  holds  it, 
or  simple  interest.  The  principal  does  not  roll  up. 

Sarah.  —  Why  will  he  pay  six  per  cent  ? 

Teacher.  —  Because  the  use  of  money  is  a  great 
convenience,  and  worth  paying  for.  However, 
men  do  not  invariably  pay  six  per  cent  for  it,  — 
sometimes  five  or  seven,  etc.  Suppose  I  borrow 
$200  of  Alice,  how  much  shall  I  pay  her  for  the 
interest  for  one  year  at  six  per  cent  ? 

Hattie.  —  $  1 2.  oo. 

Teacher.  —  And  if  I  keep  it  two  years  I  pay  her 


ARITHMETIC.  49 

$24.00  of  interest.  If  I  keep  it  six  months  longer, 
how  much  shall  I  pay  ? 

Leila.  —  Six  months  is  half  a  year ;  and  if  you 
pay  her  $12.00  for  a  year,  you  pay  $6.00  for  half  a 
year. 

Teacher.  —  And  if  I  pay  six  cents  on  a  dollar 
per  year,  what  must  I  pay  per  month,  Helen  ? 

Helen.  —  A  month  is  a  twelfth  of  a  year ;  so 
you  will  pay  a  twelfth  of  six  cents,  or  half  a  cent 
per  month. 

Teacher.  —  And  if  I  pay  half  a  cent  a  month, 
what  for  one  day  ? 

Alice.  —  One-thirtieth  of  half  a  cent,  or  one- 
sixtieth  of  a  cent. 

Teacher.  —  What  part  of  a  mill  ? 

Ethel.  —  One-sixth  of  a  mill. 

Teacher.  —  Now,  do  you  see  that  if  you  multi- 
ply the  number  of  years  by  six  cents,  of  months 
by  half  a  cent,  and  of  days  by  one-sixth  of  a 
mill  you  will  get  the  interest  of  one  dollar  for 
the  given  time.  How,  then,  shall  you  get  the 
interest  of  the  principal  for  the  given  time  at  six 
per  cent  ? 

Leila.  —  Multiply  the  interest  of  one  year  by 
the  principal. 


50         HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Teacher.  —  You  may  work  out  the  problems  in 
simple  and  compound  interest  in  the  book,  before 
your  next  lesson.  Sarah,  did  you  ever  go  down 
town,  on  Water  Street,  at  1 1  or  12  o'clock  in  the 
forenoon  ?  If  you  have,  you  may  have  seen 
almost  all  the  rich  men  there,  meeting  one 
another  on  the  street,  or  in  Mr.  Burt's  banking- 
house,  or  elsewhere.  They  are  the  capitalists, 
whose  business  is  perhaps  wholly  with  this  ex- 
change called  money.  , 

Ethel.  —  You  could  see  them  in  New  York,  on 
Wall  Street. 

Teacher.  —  Perhaps  they  meet  in  a  building 
called  The  Exchange,  or  on  a  street  where  most 
of  the  offices  for  money  are  located,  where  mer- 
chants and  financiers  meet,  — "  on  'change." 
WThere  did  the  old  Romans  meet  ? 

Minnie.  —  In  the  Forum. 

Helen.  —  And  in  Venice  they  met  on  the 
Rialto. 

Ethel.  —  And  in  New  York  they  go  to  Wall 
Street. 

Teacher.  —  At  any  of  these  places  :  what  excite- 
ment and  hubbub !  At  the  Broker's  Board  in 
New  York  it  is  almost  like  Bedlam  ;  it  is  the  great 


ARITHMETIC.  51 

absorbing  interest  about  gold,  or  the  changes  in 
the  value  of  paper  money,  or  of  stocks,  and  you 
would  be  hardly  able  to  understand  it  all.  But 
you  could  see  the  feverish  worry  and  contention, 
—  they  quarrel  and  shout.  The  "  bulls  "  and  the 
"  bears  "  (so  called)  try  to  raise  the  price  of  gold 
or  to  lower  it ;  and.  all  are  intensely  concerned  in 
the  rise  and  fall.  Money  is  bought  and  sold,  and 
through  all  the  varieties  of  business  runs  the  fash- 
ion of  paying  a  percentage  of  the  money-basis  of 
any  operation  to  the  one  through  whose  hands  it 
passes.  The  commission  merchants,  the  brokers, 
the  bankers,  the  tax-assessors,  the  insurance 
agents,  the  custom-house  officers,  all  apply  this 
principle  of  percentage  in  reckoning  their  gains 
or  losses,  and  working  out  their  business.  Ethel, 
you  know  that  Mr.  Allen,  collector  of  this  port, 
sends  out  the  custom-house  boat  to  every  in-com- 
ing ship  :  what  for? 

Ethel.  —  Because  he  has  to  get  the  tax  on  all 
the  foreign  goods  that  come  here. 

Teacher.  —  Yes  ;  that  tax  is  a  fine  imposed  by 
the  government,  —  poured  into  the  public  reve- 
nue. Finance  used  to  mean  that,  but  now  it 
means  all  departments  of  business  with  money 


52        HO W  SHALL   MY   CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

alone  (and  paper  representing  money)  for  the 
stock  in  trade.  The  financiers  are  the  men  who 
deal  in  money-notes,  coin,  stocks,  shares,  etc. 
The  bankers  arrange  loans  of  money ;  negotiate 
all  sorts  of  operations  depending  on  the  money 
market. 

Alice.  —  What  are  brokers  ? 

Teacher.  —  First  I  will  tell  you  about  commis- 
sion merchants.  If  a  Western  farmer  has  a  great 
quantity  of  produce  that  he  wishes  to  sell,  but  can- 
not take  to  market  conveniently,  he  lets  it  go  into 
the  hands  of  a  man  who  is  prepared  to  sell  it  for 
him,  and  to  whom  he  pays  a  certain  percentage 
of  its  value  for  the  trouble  of  selling  ;  this  is  com- 
mission paid  to  a  commission  merchant,  who  sells 
the  goods  from  his  own  wharf  or  warehouse.  But 
sometimes  a  man  has  goods  that  he  must  employ 
another  to  sell  for  him,  that  cannot  be  trans- 
ported, —  shares  in  the  Wamsutta  Mills,  or  stock 
in  a  bank,  or  a  share  in  the  Old  Colony  Railroad, 
or  in  some  oil-well,  or  a  house,  or  a  part  of  a  ship, 
—  he  gets  a  broker  to  sell  it  for  him.  If  he  is  in 
a  large  city,"  he  employs  a  real-estate  broker  to  sell 
his  house  or  land,  a  stock-broker  to  sell  his  stocks, 
a  gold-broker  to  sell  his  money,  and  a  ship-broker 


ARITHMETIC.  53 

to  sell  his  ship;  but  here  perhaps  one  man  does 
any  one  of  all  of  these  tnings.  You  see  the 
broker  sells  goods  that  do  not  come  into  his 
hands,  that  are  untransferable ;  the  commission 
merchant  sells  transportable  goods  from  his  ware- 
house. Both  are  paid  a  certain  percentage,  usu- 
ally quite  a  small  percentage,  of  the  value  of  their 
goods. 

Minnie.  —  I  wish  we  could  do  that  kind  of 
business. 

Teacher.  —  Minnie  may  be  a  commission  mer- 
chant at  the  next  lesson ;  Alice,  a  broker  and 
banker ;  Helen,  a  custom-house  collector ;  Hat- 
tie,  cashier  of  a  bank  ;  Sarah,  an  insurance  agent, 
to  pay  us  for  our  houses  when  they  are  acciden- 
tally destroyed,  provided  we  pay  her  a  percentage 
of  their  value  every  year  till  then  ;  Alice  may 
collect  the  taxes  on  our  property.  Talk  with  any 
one  you  know  about  these  various  kinds  of  busi- 
ness, and  we  will  see  what  forms  and  methods  are 
used  in  transacting  them.  We  will  find  out  by 
degrees  the  secret  of  Finance.  It's  just  like  some 
absorbing  game  in  real  life.  It  makes  men  grow 
gray,  and  knit  their  brows ;  but  it  won't  do  for 
us  to  know  nothing  about  it,  though  the  fathers 


54         HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

and  husbands  and  brothers  generally  do  it  all 
for  us. 

Helen.  —  Isn't  it  queer  to  make  such  a  fuss 
about  money  ?  it  isn't  really  good  for  anything, 
is  it? 

Teacher.  —  No,  its  value  is  all  made  up  or  ficti- 
tious ;  it  will  not  in  itself  do  us  any  good,  and 
when  we  die  it  is  all  thrown  away.  The  miser 
forgets  that,  and  I  think  the  financiers  forget  it 
too,  sometimes.  It  is  only  the  tool  of  trade. 
Agriculture,  manufacture,  and  trade  feed  and 
clothe  us,  and  develop  the  resources  of  the  world. 
What  has  Finance  to  do  with  Arithmetic  ? 

Leila.  —  I  don't  see  exactly ;  but  yet  you  can't 
do  business  without  using  Arithmetic. 

Teacher.  —  That's  it,  exactly ;  it  is  carried  on 
by  the  practical  application  of  the  methods  of 
Arithmetic,  just  as  trade  is. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

NATURE    LESSONS. 

A  HINT  of  spring  appears,  and  as  we  have  been 
waiting  for  it  to  study  something  of  outdoor 
natural  science  by  practical  observation,  we  hail 
it  gladly.  Boys  and  girls,  start  with  your  eyes 
open.  Look  for  the  signs  of  spring  as  we  walk. 
Tell  us  what  birds  you  see  or  hear,  what  they  are 
doing,  how  they  look,  how  they  fly  ;  and  if  you 
know  something  of  their  habits,  their  haunts, 
their  food,  their  nests,  and  their  eggs,  let  us  talk 
about  it,  that  all  may  be  ready  to  write  about  it 
in  school  to-morrow.  Examine  the  pines  to-day 
especially.  I  shall  ask  you  many  questions  about 
them.  Get  some  of  the  wood  and  bark  to  take 
home,  and  pick  up  some  specimens  of  rock,  for 
we  are  to  learn  all  we  can  of  trees,  rocks,  birds, 
insects,  and  plants,  between  now  and  the  long 
summer  vacation,  so  that  you  will  know  where 
you  are,  and  be  well  acquainted  with  your  com- 
pany all  through  Nature's  holiday. 

55 


56        HO W  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Here  is  a  little  bank  of  snow  under  the  stone 
wall.  We  must  give  it  a  greeting  and  farewell, 
for  it  will  soon  go.  It  glistens  on  its  crusty 
surface.  You  have  observed  the  snow  as 
it  falls.  What  do  you  know  of  the  shape  of  the 
flakes  ? 

Helen.  —  The  flakes  are  one  or  more  little  stars 
of  different  patterns.  I  saw  a  good  many  copies 
of  snow-flakes  in  the  magazines.  They  were  very 
pretty. 

Madge.  —  I  saw  them  one  day  through  a  micro- 
scope. They  had  each  six  rays,  and  some  had 
rays  like  fern-leaves.  Oh,  there  were  so  many 
kinds  !  but  they  were  all  lovely. 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  every  star,  or  crystal,  has  six 
rays,  —  sometimes  twelve  ;  all  the  centres  have 
six  sides ;  all  are  perfectly  symmetrical  ;  all  its 
parts  are  put  together  at  an  angle  of  60°, — just 
as  if  a  mathematical  law  had  ruled  the  formation 
of  all.  The  earth  all  winter  has  been  wrapped  in 
this  warm,  soft  blanket  of  the  snow.  It  has  kept 
the  roots  safe.  How  softly  and  quietly  the  moist- 
ure which  formed  them  arose  from  the  sea  ;  how 
far  the  great  cloud  travelled  ;  how  wide  it  spread, 
to  fall  so  gently  at  last  just  where  it  was  needed  ! 


NATURE   LESSONS.  57 

Mother  Nature  is  a  u  de~r  old  nurse,"  to  be 
sure. 

Daisy.  —  You  wanted  us  to  look  for  rocks. 
Here  is  a  pretty  white  one ;  it  looks  almost  like 
the  snow. 

TeacJier.  —  All  come  near  to  see  it ;  find  more 
pieces  like  it,  or  'mixed  with  some  other  kind  of 
rock.  It  is  called  quartz.  Teddy  has  a  piece,  a 
little  different  in  hue.  What  is  yours  the  color  of, 
Daisy  ? 

Daisy.  —  It  is  milk-white. 

Teddy. —  Mine  is  something  like  glass. 

Teacher.  —  Daisy's  is  milk  quartz,  and  Teddy's 
vitreous,  or  glassy,  quartz.  This  is  very  interest- 
ing, because  when  all  the  outside  of  the  earth  was 
water,  this  soft,  fine  sediment  was  deposited  at 
the  bottom  of  the  unbroken  ocean,  and  by  heat 
was  made  into  this  rock.  It  was  the  bottom  of 
the  old  oceans  that  boiled  all  around  the  hot  globe 
before  any  plant  or  animal  was  made.  It  is  the 
oldest  rock  and  the  most  common.  Is  it  hard  ? 
Try  your  knife  upon  it. 

Conrtenaye.  —  It  is  very  hard.  I  cannot  make 
a  mark  on  it. 

Teacher.  —  Take  a  piece   home.     It   will  write 


5 8        HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE   TAUGHT? 

your  name  on  glass.  Glass  is  quartz-sand  melted 
and  mixed  with  soda.  It  takes  a  very  hot  fire 
to  melt  it.  Crack  up  a  piece.  Does  it  break  in 
even  lines? 

Prescott.  —  No,  it  breaks  any  way. 

Teacher.  —  Flint,  you  know  ;  you  have  a  piece 
at  school.  This  is  a  kind  of  quartz.  Sometimes 
quartz  is  in  crystals,  and  as  transparent  as  glass. 

Helen.  —  Oh,  we  have  a  rock  at  home  all  cov- 
ered thickly  with  crystals,  —  it  is  crowded  with 
them. 

Teacher.  — Amethyst  is  a  purple  quartz-crystal. 
Agates  are  layers  of  different  colored  quartz.  The 
sand  of  the  sea-shore  is  quartz  broken  up  by  the 
waves.  It  is  found  mixed  with  other  minerals, 
and  makes  rocks.  But  there  go  a  flock  of  crows. 
"  Caw,  caw,"  they  say. 

Blanche.  —  They  go  fast.  They  are  all  black, 
and  flap  their  wings  slowly. 

Esther.  —  I  see  them  go  to  the  sea-shore  early 
every  morning  and  back.  They  get  their  break- 
fast there. 

Willie.  —  They  eat  the  dead  fish  on  the  shore. 
I  saw  a  crow's  nest  last  fall,  but  it  was  so  high  up 
in  an  old  pine-tree,  without  any  but  top  branches, 


NA  TURE  LESSONS.  $9 

I  couldn't  get  it.  It  was  made  of  great  sticks 
and  hay.  You  could  see  it  far  off.  By  and 
by  they  will  come  to  the  corn-fields  for  food, 
and  the  farmers  will  have  to  set  up  the  scare- 
crows. 

Teacher.  —  He  belongs  to  the  Corvus  family. 
His  nest  is  always  high  above  the  ground,  in  a 
pine  or  cedar,  made  of  sticks  and  dry  grass,  —  as 
Willie  says,  —  and  lined  with  bark  from  cedars  or 
grape-vines.  The  old  cedars  at  Nonquitt  are  all 
stripped  of  their  bark.  They  make  their  nests 
the  last  of  March. 

Prescott.  —  Rob  Moore  got  an  egg  for  our  club  ; 
it  was  green,  with  brown  marks  on  it;  about  an 
inch  and  a  half  long. 

Teacher.  —  If  you  should  go  near  the  nest  while 
they  are  building,  they  will  fly  about,  cawing  in 
such  a  way  as  to  deceive  you  about  its  situation. 
But  when  they  are  sitting  on  the  eggs  they  are 
very  brave.  In  April  they  eat  a  great  many  de- 
structive insects  in  the  ploughed  fields,  so  that 
they  do  the  farmers  as  much  good  as  harm.  Some- 
times they  will  eat  field-mice  or  snakes,  and  in 
autumn  they  eat  berries  and  grain.  Did  you  ever 
see  a  crow  walk  ? 


60        HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Madge.  —  Yes,  they  look  so  tall  and  funny,  as 
if  they  were  going  to  meeting  ;  but  they  fly  as  if 
they  were  sailing,  sometimes. 

Teacher.  —  We  are  coming  to  the  pines.  Here 
are  the  willows.  Don't  break  them  to-day  ;  wait 
a  week  or  two  till  the  pussy-buds  are  larger,  and 
we  will  examine  them  then. 


II. 

IT  is  a  lovely  day,  and  the  sweet,  mild  air  re- 
proaches us  for  keeping  indoors.  However,  as 
Madame  Monet  comes  for  an  hour,  the  class  is 
easily  reconciled  to  the  confinement,  which  is 
made  so  entertaining  by  the  comedie  "  Les  Ca- 
prices de  Gizelle"  —  la  petite  mechante  avec  sa 
poupee.  But  when  the  hour  is  through  they 
seem  tired,  and  Nature  invites  us  away,  so  the 
rest  of  the  session  shall  be  held  under  the  blue 
skies.  We  start  joyfully,  with  microscope  and 
specimen  boxes,  reaching  within  fifteen  minutes  a 
quiet  road  stretching  between  fields  and  woods, 
with  a  running  brook  near ;  while  stone  walls 
divide  the  landscape,  and  broken  rocks  are  strewn 
along  the  wayside. 


NATURE  LESSONS.  ___    _ 

, 

As  we  ramble  pleasantly  on,  we  obsePfc^SB^* «»_  * 
cumulus  and  cirrus  clouds  freshening  up  the  sT" 
We  point  them  out,  and  explain  their  causes  and 
effects,  answering  many  a  curious  question  there- 
upon. We  might  amplify  on  such  a  theme,  but 
try  to  stop  short  of  confusing  them,  and  promise 
them  more  complete  instruction  another  time ; 
but  it  is  an  interesting  subject,  especially  to  the 
imaginative  children.  We  observe  the  enterpris- 
ing robin  and  bluebird,  crossing  and  recrossing 
the  airy  spaces  ;  and,  with  a  clatter  of  tongues,  we 
recount  what  we  learned  of  them  last  spring,  — 
how  many  feet  of  worm  each  young  robin  must 
have  per  day,  the  eggs,  the  nests,  the  songs,  the 
migration  and  habits.  They  have  not  forgotten  a 
word  of  it,  and  love  to  talk  about  the  pretty 
creatures  who  can  do  what  we  cannot,  —  track 
the  breezy  air. 

We  have  pointed  out  the  trees  that  ornament 
the  streets  and  grounds  we  have  passed,  —  the 
maples,  elms,  and  chestnuts,  —  and  here  are  the 
pines,  oaks,  and  willows.  Do  we  not  know  much 
of  them  already  ?  Let  us  look  for  the  buds,  find 
the  fresh  green  layer  beneath  the  bark,  see  the 
catkins  coming  out ;  and,  as  we  have  within  a  few 


62        HO W  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT* 

days  had  oral  lessons  on  such  opening  buds  and 
flowers  as  could  be  obtained,  we  examine,  with 
renewed  delight,  the  pistillate  and  staminate 
flowers  of  the  willows  wrapped  in  amber  clouds, 
and  the  red  maple  all  aflame  on  the  borders  of  the 
wood.  We  find  the  sprouting  maple  keys  and  the 
acorns,  with  their  stored-up  albumen  to  feed  the 
germ. 

Now  we  come  to  a  halt,  and  sit  down  upon 
some  big  stones,  while  we  cast  our  eyes  around. 
The  broken  rocks  glisten  with  mica,  and  are  beau- 
tifully variegated  with  feldspar,  quartz,  and  por- 
phyry ;  we  split  off  flakes  of  mica ;  we  talk  of 
forces,  of  heat  and  water,  of  crystallization ;  we 
go  back  to  primeval  ages  :  here  are  boulders  of 
granite  and  syenite.  (Oh,  yes !  we  heard  of 
syenite  in  our  study  of  Egypt  last  winter.)  Is 
it  too  much  to  hint  at  the  origin  of  these  bones 
of  the  earth,  and  stretch  these  little  minds  to  such 
vast  themes  ?  You  can  see  their  powers  expand, 
their  imagination  take  wing,  and  their  longing 
grow  mightily  as  they  look  and  listen.  Ah  !  why 
are  there  so  many  mines  of  interest  in  our  track 
to-day,  and  the  road  below  and  around  us  so  teem- 
ing with  material  for  investigation  ?  It  was  not  m 


NATURE   LESSONS.  63 

our  arrangement  of  opportunities ;  let  us  accept  it 
as  part  of  a  wiser  one  than  ours. 

"  Well,  now,  scatter,  dear  children,  and  find  all 
you  can  ;  I  await  you  here."  Away  they  go  to 
the  four  quarters  of  this  field  of  exploration. 
Alice  H.,  the  born  naturalist,  starts  for  the  brook, 
with  three  or  four  younger  ones  loyal  to  her; 
into  the  woods  goes  Hattie  with  a  troop,  and  the 
radii  of  our  circle  are  quickly  drawn  by  swift 
detachments  —  to  the  fields,  down  the  road,  on  to 
the  recesses,  where  the  sound  of  the  pines  is 
heard  or  the  clear  gurgle  of  the  water.  They 
come  back,  after  a  while,  in  irregular  squads,  and 
lay  their  treasures  on  a  .big  flat  rock  together. 
Here  is  a  blossom  of  cinquefoil,  with  its  plaited 
leaves  and  running  stem ;  sprays  of  alder  and 
willow  catkins,  in  every  stage  of  beauty ;  clover 
leaves ;  one  little  stem  of  epigea  in  bloom  ;  fresh 
grass,  and  a  great  variety  of  lichens  and  mosses. 
One  and  another  explain  and  describe  the  cinque- 
foil  and  epigea,  when,  —  hark!  a  shout  of  glad 
announcement  from  the  woods,  and  a  burst  of 
rosy  cheeks  and  bright  eyes  ushers  up  Alice  T. 
and  her  followers,  with  four  dangling  snakes,  all 
shining  and  scaly,  one  with  the  forked  tongue  still 


64        HO IV  SHALL    MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

darting  from  its  bruised  head.  What  beautiful 
golden  browns  checker  its  swaying  length !  We 
will  carry  them  home,  and  have  a  lesson  on  them 
to-morrow.  So  must  we  also  teach  lichens  and 
mosses,  although  Alice  T.  tells  us  now  of  the 
crumbling  of  the  rock  under  the  lichen ;  but 
while  we  wait  for  the  delaying  parties,  who  have 
not  returned,  we  are  diverted  with  an  account  of 
the  adventure  of  the  snake  discovery  and  capture, 
and  have  time  to  look  through  the  microscope  at 
the  lovely  mosses  —  miniature  forests  of  green, 
crowned  with  whorled  roseate  heads  ;  soft  carpets 
of  verdure,  lifting  up  their  spears  and  cups  of  red 
and  brown. 

But  now  we  hear  the  clarion  call  of  the  scouts 
from  the  brook,  and  on  they  come !  A  raid  over 
the  stone  wall  brings  them  all  to  our  feet,  and 
lo !  in  their  open  boxes  displayed  are  masses  of 
bull-frogs'  and  turtles'  eggs,  —  the  embryo  just 
beginning  to  show  the  line  of  cleavage.  What 
excitement  of  pleasure  attends  this  lesson !  We 
are  not  afraid  of  embryology  :  nothing  is  more 
interesting  than  this  evident  miracle  of  the  birth- 
hour  of  Nature  —  both  animal  and  vegetable — and 
we  are  in  the  very  midst  of  its  awe  and  beauty. 


NATURE  LESSONS.  65 

We  discuss  carefully  and  explicitly,  with  the  mi- 
croscope, the  bull-frog's  eggs,  the  albumen,  the 
germ,  the  tadpole.  They  all  know  the  metamor- 
phosis and  the  general  characteristics  of  the  tad- 
pole and  frog.  But  Alice  H.  has  been  an  original 
investigator  :  she  can  tell  precisely  the  succession 
of  the  changes,  from  the  laying  of  the  egg  to  the 
full-grown  frog ;  she  has  felt  in  the  bull-frog's 
mouth  herself  to  see  if  it  had  teeth,  and  she  tells 
us  all  about  it,  and  how  its  tongue  is  attached  in 
front  and  free  behind.  They  have  all  seen  the 
toad  or  frog  throw  out  its  fat,  gluey  tongue  to 
swoop  up  the  ants  or  slugs ;  some  have  seen  the 
bull-frog  swallow  another  frog ;  but  they  are  far 
from  listless  when  they  learn  for  the  first  time 
that  the  frog's  ears  and  nose  are  in  the  back  of  its 
mouth  ;  it  doesn't  appear  to  strain  their  faculties 
to  learn,  from  once  hearing,  these  arid  many  other 
facts  about  the  frog,  in  this  academic  hall,  with 
the  specimens  under  their  eyes. 

We  cannot  find  a  frog,  but  many  remember  the 
tight  piece  of  skin  stretched  behind  the  eye, 
which  is  the  drum  of  the  ear.  They  hear  of 
the  flying-frog  of  Borneo ;  of  the  haughty  male 
frog,  who  decorates  himself  with  a  garland  of  eggs 


66        HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

till  he  looks  like  a  Knight  of  the  Garter,  and  then 
sits  in  the  mud  till  the  tadpoles  squirm,  when  he 
jumps  into  the  water  and  they  all  launch  out  like 
an  epitome  of  the  resurrection  day ;  they  hear  of 
the  toad  whose  back  grows  soft  and  spongy  while 
it  lays  its  eggs,  so  that  the  male  can  stick  it  full 
of  the  little  globules,  like  a  beaded  cushion,  and 
when  the  change  comes,  in  the  twinkling  of  a 
toad's  eye,  one  hundred  and  twenty  lively  little 
blackies  jump  out  of  their  warm  bed  at  once.  It 
doesn't  take  long  for  the  audience  around  the  rock 
to  commit  these  wonders  to  memory.  Shouts 
of  delight  reverberate,  and  ecstatic  measures  of 
jumps  and  twirls  and  other  gymnastics  interrupt 
the  lesson.  Afterward  in  the  more  orderly  atten- 
tion of  the  schoolroom,  we  can  fix  the  technicali- 
ties, explain  the  structure,  compare  and  classify, 
and  when  abstracts  have  been  written,  I  doubt  if 
some  of  them  may  not  lay  claim  to  the  rare  title 
of  Batrachiologists. 

It  is  high  time  to  go  home.  Pick  up  the  speci- 
mens, fill  up  the  boxes,  swing  the  snakes  along ; 
do  not  get  too  many  rocks,  though  they  are  so 
tempting  in  their  glistening  beauty  and  their  won- 
derful suggestions ;  and  when  we  reach  the 


NATURE  LESSONS.  / 

school,  after  our  two  hours  out,  we  will  hang  the 
snakes  from  the  window  as  trophies,  and  study 
them  up  for  our  lesson  in  the  morning.  Good- 
bye ;  we  have  started  up  many  a  trail ;  we  long 
and  mean  to  follow  each  one ;  and  just  now  we 
are  hungry. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

READING   TO   THE    CHILDREN. 

THE  teacher  seems  to  be  reading  to  the  class  ; 
she  looks  up  often  to  meet  the  row  of  intent  faces 
turned  toward  her,  and  seems  to  gather  inspira- 
tion from  the  review  ;  scholars  at  work  upon 
other  studies  one  by  one  lift  up  their  dilated  eyes, 
and  as  the  reading  progresses  the  whole  school 
becomes  absorbed  in  listening.  Sympathetic  and 
enthusiastic  exclamations  break  from  their  lips 
here  and  there,  —  questions  and  brief  conversa- 
tions interrupt  only  to  augment  the  interest.  The 
book  is  held  in  the  teacher's  hand  certainly,  but  if 
one  glances  over  its  rapidly  turned  pages  he  can 
hardly  follow,  and  seldom  finds  the  place.  Actu- 
ally, the  text  is  translated  impromptu  into  a 
style  and  language  which,  by  a  sort  of  improvisa- 
tion, becomes  the  best  medium  for  this  mercurial 
transmission  of  ideas.  The  book  is  taken  as  a 
skeleton  to  be  clothed  upon  by  the  kindled  m- 

68 


READING    TO    THE   CHILDREN.  69 

spiration  of  one  who  loves  herself  to  prepare  the 
mental  aliment  for  those  whom  she  has  studied  so 
carefully,  and  whose  hungering  looks  turn  to  her, 
while  she  is  stirred  by  their  magnetic  desire,  and 
sensitive  to  every  throb  of  the  nervous  tissue  of 
their  busy  brains. 

It  is  better  for  such  a  teacher  to  take  for  this 
purpose  a  book  which  is  not  written  for  children, 
as  children's  books  are  too  childish  in  style  and 
too  limited  in  language.  Words  thrown  into 
strong  connections  interpret  themselves  to  the 
warmly  interested  mind,  and  the  vocabulary  is 
insensibly  and  actively  enlarged,  the  store-house 
of  memory  filled,  not  with  dead  forms  but  with 
living  actors,  ready  to  step  forward  and  play  their 
part  whenever  the  automatic  brain  calls  for  them. 

This  method  of  teaching  explains  much  that 
seems  extravagant  as  a  statement  of  a  year's 
work.  For  example,  one  day  last  spring,  to  re- 
ward those  who  had  braved  the  storm  to  come,  I 
took  a  dry  account  from  a  compendium  of  general 
history,  and  attempted  to  teach  in  an  hour  or  two 
the  lesson  of  the  Crusades.  The  children  had 
had  but  a  glimpse  of  the  matter,  in  connection 
with  their  lessons  in  English  History,  the  previous 


70        HO IV  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

year.  Reading  to  them  in  some  such  way  as  I 
have  described  ;  writing  on  the  board  a  schedule 
of  names  and  dates  as  they  occurred  in  the  read- 
ing, in  order  to  make  the  outline  clear  before  their 
eyes  ;  tracing  the  localities  and  movements  on  the 
map ;  reading  verbatim  passages  from  the  Talis- 
man also,  showing  with  it  the  engravings  from  a 
rare  illustrated  edition  of  Scott,  and  with  pictures 
and  a  little  of  the  text  from  Ivan/we,  —  I  found  at 
the  close  of  the  session,  that  in  the  glow  of  the 
whole  theme  upon  the  clear  mirror  of  their  minds, 
they  had  received  a  comprehensive  as  well  as  a 
particular  knowledge  of  the  subject,  a  perfectly 
orderly  outline  of  its  facts,  a  vivid  apprehension 
of  its  purpose,  philosophy,  connections,  and  re- 
sults, as  well  as  a  strong  scenic  impression  of  the 
drama  of  the  whole  epoch.  I  think  it  would  have 
taken  a  week,  at  least,  of  daily  lessons  of  common 
book-routine  to  accomplish  what  we  did  in  this 
reading ;  and  I  believe  the  pupils  will  have  a 
more  enduring  remembrance  of  the  history,  and 
a  stronger  desire  to  inform  themselves  more  fully 
upon  it,  and  to  revive  whatever  escapes  their 
memories,  than  they  would  have  after  the  usual 
method  of  study. 


READING    TO    THE   CHILDREN.  7l 

Plutarch's  Lives  we  read  much  in  connection 
with  the  study  of  ancient  history  ;  it  is  a  wonder- 
ful mine  of  delight,  and  absolutely  requires  this 
kind  of  presentation.  There  is  much  elimination 
and  supplementary  explanation  to  be  made,  — 
deep  chasms  in  the  historical  highland  to  be 
bridged  over,  and,  in  fact,  a  great  deal  of  trans- 
mutation to  make  it  into  pure  gold  for  children  ; 
but,  with  this  handling,  it  is  fascinating  in  the 
extreme,  and  throws  out  the  old  heroes  most 
boldly  on  the  canvas.  "  Splendid  !  "  "  Three 
cheers  !  "  "  Which  do  you  like  best  ?"  "  Oh,  how 
I  admire  him  !  "  are  among  the  frequent  interpola- 
tions on  the  part  of  the  excited  audience,  as  they 
are  moved  to  sorrow  or  to  joy  by  the  grand  sculp- 
turing of  this  great  master  of  biography. 

But  if  they  take  the  book  and  try  to  read  it 
alone  they  are  disappointed  ;  it  seems  incoherent, 
often  very  prosy  and  unintelligible,  and  they  grow 
weary  of  hunting  for  the  juicy  plums  of  anecdote. 

I  like  to  take  a  hand-book  of  some  branch  of 
physics,  and  offer  it  to  the  class  through  this  kind 
of  reading ;  the  "  primers "  in  these  branches  I 
do  not  care  to  use,  although  I  have  tried  several 
of  them ;  but  they  trammel  the  natural  action  of 


72        HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

my  own  thought  and  flow  of  my  own  expression 
and  clog  the  ways  which  run  from  my  mind  to 
theirs.  It  seems  almost  impossible  for  me  to 
read  one  of  them  verbatim  to  a  child.  A  little  of 
that  electric  force  of  the  teacher's  own  individual- 
ity, when  it  beats  in  harmony  with  the  pulses 
which  it  touches  every  day,  is  more  effectual  than 
volumes  of  dead  words  and  tedious  reiteration. 
More  than  all  that  they  learn  of  the  subject-matter 
in  hand  in  such  exercises,  I  value  the  sharpening 
and  strengthening  of  their  powers  of  discernment, 
concentration,  and  assimilation,  and  the  steady 
improvement  of  the  quality  and  fibre  of  the  mind 
which  is  ministered  to.  Is  it  not  the  essential 
germ  of  true  education  ? 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ORAL    LESSONS. 

SOCRATES  sat  with  his  disciples  in  the  Academe 
as  a  teacher  viva  voce ;  no  book  was  in  his  hand, 
no  tablet  or  scroll  was  held  out  to  his  pupils,  but 
the  air  surged  with  the  magnetic  power  of  his 
presence,  and  the  audible  expression  of  his  mind. 
The  eye  was  riveted  on  him,  not  on  written  pages 
or  slow-conned  letters.  And  in  the  immense 
concourse  of  the  Greek  theatre  we  see  the  people 
listening  with  bated  breath  to  the  wisdom,  the 
philosophy,  the  history,  and  religion  of  those 
great  tragedies  whereby  ^Eschylus,  Sophocles, 
and  Euripides  informed  the  world.  Was  it 
necessary  for  any  open-mouthed  listener  to  go 
thence  to  the  examiners,  or  to  work  over  those 
problems  of  passion  and  reason  by  the  smoulder- 
ing embers  of  a  printed  record  ?  Nay,  the  im- 
pression was  branded  into  his  mind  by  the  heat  of 

73 


74         HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

action,  form,  look,  and  speech,  which  kindled  there 
an  undying  fervor. 

And,  —  to  come  down  to  nearer  times  and  less 
miraculous  men,  —  when  did  Agassiz  call  his 
class  before  him  to  go  through  a  list  of  printed 
questions  reviewing  a  printed  page?  He  took 
them  to  Lake  Superior  to  learn  of  ores ;  the 
masses  of  copper  shone  iridescent  in  their  hands, 
and  the  teacher's  face  glowed  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  vision  as  he  spoke  and  pointed.  How  many 
times  have  we  seen  him  on  the  platform  imparting 
more  wisdom,  science,  and  devout  learning  from 
his  expressive  and  radiant  face  and  golden  utter- 
ance than  could  be  put  upon  paper  or  held  within 
covers  !  He  adjured  the  young  priests  and  ves- 
tals of  nature,  gathered  about  him  at  Penekese, 
to  discard  books  and  proceed  to  discovery. 
Books  are  the  reservoirs  of  what  we  have  not  the 
means  of  hearing  or  seeing.  If  I  am  a  cosmopoli- 
tan, need  I  consult  the  geography  ?  If  I  can 
listen  to  the  animated  report  of  the  cotemporary 
of  great  men,  need  I  read  their  biographies  ? 
No ;  the  word,  the  look,  the  first-hand  report,  is 
next  to  the  witness  of  our  own  eye  or  the  partici- 
pation of  our  own  life. 


ORAL  LESSONS.  75 

Even  in  consulting  the  book,  how  greatly 
instantaneous  impression  may  be  cultivated ! 
The  dull,  untrained  mind  follows  each  line  with 
heavy  movement  of  eye  and  brain,  and  even  of 
lips ;  the  brain  trained  to  concentration  and  rapid 
assimilation  takes  in  the  page  at  a  glance,  as  did 
Lord  Macaulay,  and  receives  the  subject  like  a 
sun-picture  in  turning  the  leaves.  I  claim  that 
one  of  the  finest  results  of  steady  and  progressive 
oral  instruction  is  this  training  for  concentration 
of  mind,  and  instantaneous  focussing  of  the  light 
of  the  printed  page,  or  any  other  channel  of 
impression  ;  it  opens  the  ways,  and  arouses  the 
forces  of  the  brain,  until  that  receives  and  appro- 
priates whatever  is  offered  to  it  without  the 
friction  of  intermittent  interest,  and  the  check 
and  chafe  of  an  uneducated  eye  and  brain. 
We  have  been  accustomed  to  follow  and  catch 
the  fleeting  word  which  may  not  be  recalled  or 
repeated,  instead  of  a  waiting  line  to  which  we 
again  and  again  recur  when  we  plod  through  the 
dull  letters  until  our  brains  are  callous  and  rusty 
for  want  of  exercise. 

Horace  Mann  !  Has  any  one  any  merely  book- 
associations  with  his  teaching?  It  was  too  vital 


76         HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

and  incisive  a  matter  to  clothe  with  another  man's 
language,  or  be  imparted  through  any  written 
medium.  He  said,  "Let  there  be!"  and  there 
was.  Truly  it  led  us  thirsting  and  hungering  to 
every  source  of  knowledge,  —  books  were  its 
tributaries,  and  so  was  everything  wherein  lay 
food  for  the  insatiate  brain  stirred  by  his  touch : 
but  the  great  stream,  —  the  deep  river  of  his 
influence,  was  an  outflowing  of  his  own  personal- 
ity and  his  own  inspiration,  and  created  scholars 
and  noble  souls. 

Oral  lessons !  they  should  come  from  the  over- 
flowing beaker,  not  from  the  scanty  cup.  If 
mechanical,  what  an  utter  failure  they  become  ! 
They  must  be  so  spontaneous  as  to  awaken  an 
interest  in  every  pupil,  so  well  prepared  for  as  to 
satisfy  the  aroused  attention  ;  so  replete  as  to  tempt 
and  reward  all  mental  craving  ;  so  suggestive  as  to 
start  innumerable  activities  in  the  listening  brain ; 
and  so  forceful  and  inspiring  as  to  drive  to  inves- 
tigation, research,  and  study,  by  every  available 
means.  They  should  be  mixed  with  every  recita- 
tion,—  an  infiltration  of  sunlight  over  every  path 
of  knowledge,  shortening  and  illuminating  the 
road,  and  yet  revealing  an  infinite  vista. 


ORAL  LESSONS.  77 

ORAL    LESSON    ON    BIRDS. 

Teacher.  —  Do  you  know  that  during  this  month 
a  great  multitude  will  come  up  here  from  the 
South,  to  spend  the  spring  and  summer?  We 
shall  soon  see  large  and  attractive  parties  of  trav- 
ellers arriving  and  settling  themselves  in  their 
summer  homes. 

Scholars.  —  Who  are  they,  and  what  are  they 
coming  for  ? 

Teacher.  —  You  must  try  to  guess  ;  they  do  not 
come  by  railroad  or  steamboat,  although  they 
travel  as  fast.  They  are  coming  now  in  such 
troops  that  there  will  soon  be  a  million  of  them  in 
Massachusetts. 

Louie.  —  A  million  !  What  shall  we  do  ?  There 
will  not  be  room  enough  for  them,  nor  enough  to 
eat. 

Teacher.  —  Oh,  there  are  a  good  many  of  the 
houses  they  had  last  summer  waiting  for  them,  and 
they  will  go  right  to  work  and  build  all  they  need 
besides.  As  for  their  food,  it  has  been  kept  safe 
all  winter  for  them  in  little  sealed  cans  which  they 
know  how  to  open,  hidden  in  the  places  where 
they  resort.  I  saw  a  crowd  of  them  yesterday, 


f°         HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

dressed  in  brown  and  dull  red,  opening  some  of 
the  cans  and  eating  the  preserved  fruits,  and  they 
had  ices  and  frosting  with  their  dessert,  laid  out 
on  elegantly  spread  tables,  supported  and  festooned 
by  evergreens,  spruce-boughs,  and  fir-boughs,  and 
they  had  drops  of  balsam  and  spicy  gums  for  their 
confections. 

Bertha.  —  Why,  Mrs.  !  what  are  you  talk- 
ing about  ? 

Teacher.  —  I'm  talking  about  the  delightful 
company  about  to  visit  us  from  the  South.  They 
know  more  about  some  things  in  Nature  here  than 
we  do,  and  they  are  all  more  or  less  musical,  and 
will  give  us  quite  a  concert  every  morning  and 
night,  and  more  or  less  through  many  days  of  the 
spring  and  summer. 

Carrie.  —  I  think  I  know.     May  I  tell  ? 

Teacher.  —  Not  quite  yet ;  but  you  may  talk 
about  them,  without  telling.  Do  you  know  how 
their  houses  are  built  ? 

Carrie.  —  Some  of  them  are  made  of  mud  and 
sticks  and  straw  and  hair. 

Teacher.  —  Do  you  know  what  they  like  best  to 
eat? 

Carrie.  —  Worms.     (Laughter.) 


ORAL   LESSONS. 

I.  —  I  know.     It  is  the  birds. 

Prescott.  —  I  saw  a  little  bird  standing 
top  of  the  snow,  the  other  day.  He  took  hold  of 
a  little  stalk  that  peeped  out  of  the  snow,  and 
shook  it  till  lots  of  seeds  fell  down  on  the  snow, 
and  he  ate  them.  Were  they  the  food  in  the 
sealed  cans  ? 

Teacher.  —  Yes  ;  the  cans  were  hung  up  on  that 
little  stalk  till  he  should  come  to  get  them.  That 
little  bird,  and  his  relatives,  had  stayed  here  all 
winter,  I  think.  How  did  he  look  ? 

Prescott.  —  He  was  black  and  white,  with  a  big 
head  for  such  a  small  bird  ;  and  he  almost  turned 
somersaults  upon  the  fir-tree,  and  hung  with  his 
head  down. 

Teacher.  —  Was  his  head  black,  or  white  ? 

Prescott.  —  His  head  was  black,  and  his  breast 
was  almost  white. 

Teacher.  —  We  might  call  him  Black-cap.  Did 
he  seem  to  be  alone  ? 

Prescott.  —  Oh,  yes  !  call  him  Black-cap.  There 
was  a  whole  flock  of  them  in  the  bushes,  in  the 
yard  where  those  pink  berries  are. 

Teacher.  —  Who  knows  his  name  ? 

Edith. — Was  it  the  Chick-a-dee-dee  ? 


O        HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Teacher.  —  The  Chick-a-dee.  That  name  is  for 
his  song ;  his  other  name  is  "  Black-capped  Tit- 
mouse." "Titmouse"  is  his  family  name.  Have 
you  all  heard  him  sing  ? 

Several.  —  Yes,  indeed,  we  all  know  Chick-a- 
dee-dee. 

Teacher.  —  He  stays  here  all  winter  long,  and 
we  like  him  ;  why,  Carrie  ? 

Carrie.  —  Because  he  is  so  funny  and  nimble. 

Lulu.  — And  so  gay  and  not  afraid. 

Prescott.  —  I  think,  because  he  hops  about  the 
yard  and  gets  the  crumbs  we  throw  him,  and  perks 
his  head  on  every  side  and  winks  his  eye  at  us. 

Bertha.  —  Don't  you  think  it  is  more  because 
his  song  is  so  cheery,  and  he  stays  all  winter  ? 

Teacher.  —  You  are  all  right.  Hear  about  his 
nest  and  his  eggs.  He  finds  a  snug  hole  in  a  post 
or  tree,  perhaps  in  a  birch-tree,  and  lines  it  with 
soft  feathers,  or  moss,  or  wool ;  then  the  last  part 
of  May  is  chosen  as  the  best  time  to  lay  the  eggs, 
—  six  little  spotted  eggs.  Many  of  them  go  away 
farther  north  in  the  summer,  and  those  who  stay 
here  are  more  shy,  and  keep  more  at  home  in  the 
trees,  where  they  pick  out  little  bugs  and  insects' 
eggs  from  under  the  bark  of  the  tree,  as  the  Wood- 


ORAL   LESSONS. 


8l 


peckers  do ;  then  in  the  fall  they  are  as  lively  and 
merry  and  social  as  ever. 

Mabel.  —  I  guess  they  are  modest  about  their 
plain  clothes  when  all  the  other  birds  are  here. 

Teacher.  —  Now,  here  are  two  eggs  of  the  Chick- 
a-dee,  and  a  picture  of  him,  which  Louie  may  draw 
on  the  board.  Tell  me  his  other  name. 

All.  —  Black-capped  Titmouse. 

Teacher.  —  But  these  birds  were  not  of  the 
hosts  I  spoke  about,  flying  from  the  South,  coming 
now,  and  all  through  March.  I  mean  a  larger 
bird. 

Helen.  —  Robins.  They  are  the  ones  that  eat 
worms,  and  make  mud  and  straw  nests. 

Teacher.  —  You  are  right.  Where  do  they  make 
their  nests,  Helen  ? 

Helen,  —  Up  in  the  apple-trees,  in  a  corner  by 
two  or  three  branches.  They  plaster  mud  all  in 
the  place,  and  poke  sticks  around  in  it  for  a  found- 
ation. I  have  got  one  at  home. 

Teacher.  —  Here  is  one.  It  had  to  be  pulled  off 
of  the  boughs.  See  how  strong  it  is,  and  rough 
outside  ;  but  is  it  rough  inside,  Ethel  ? 

Ethel.  —  Oh,  no ;  it  is  all  lined  with  soft  hairs 
and  feathers,  for  the  eggs  to  rest  on. 


82         HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT r( 

Teacher.  -—  What  is  the  color  of  the  Robin  ? 

Hattic.  —  I  believe  it  is  gray  and  brown  on  the 
top,  and  deep  red  underneath. 

Teacher.  —  I  want  you  to  watch  carefully,  and 
be  ready  to  describe  exactly  the  color  and  form  of 
the  Robin.  You  will  be  sure  to  see  some  of  them 
within  a  week.  Notice  the  color  of  his  head,  his 
bill,  and  legs,  as  well  as  his  back,  tail,  and  breast. 
See  whether  his  tail  is  forked,  and  whether  he 
jerks  it  or  not.  Watch  whether  he  runs  or  hops, 
and  what  he  eats.  Hattie,  you  may  draw  and  paint 
a  picture  of  him  for  us  to  see ;  and  who  can  bring 
his  eggs? 

Helen.  —  I  can  ;  they  are  lovely  in  color. 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  so  lovely  and  so  peculiar  that 
we  can  only  call  it  Robin's-egg  blue.  How  many 
eggs  are  usually  in  one  nest,  and  at  what  time  of 
year  ? 

Helen.  —  Four  or  five,  in  April.  We  only  take 
one  or  two  eggs  out  of  a  nest,  and  we  don't  take 
the  nest  till  fall.  Oliver  and  I  got  them. 

Carrie.  —  I  wish  you  could  see  them,  Mrs.  H., 
on  our  lawn,  tugging  at  the  worms,  switching  them 
out  of  the  grass  after  a  shower,  and  then  biting 
them  in  short  pieces,  and  flying  off  with  a  tassel 


ORAL   LESSONS.  83 

of  worms  hanging  from  their  bills.  They  hop,  and 
look  around,  and  hop  again  ;  then  they  run  so  fast 
you  can't  see  their  legs  go,  and  then  they  make  a 
dive  for  a  worm,  and  jerk  him  out  by  degrees ;  it 
is  so  funny  ! 

Helen.  —  I  saw  them,  last  year,  feeding  the  little 
birds,  in  a  nest  up  in  the  big  spruce-tree,  right  out 
of  my  chamber  window.  The  young  ones  peeped 
and  peeped,  and  crowded  up,  and  opened  their 
mouths  as  wide  as  all  out-doors,  while  their  mother 
and  father  kept  coming  with  worms  to  drop  into 
their  big  mouths. 

Teacher.  —  How  much  worm  does  one  little 
robin  eat  in  a  day? 

Lulu.  —  Oh,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know. 

Teacher.  —  A  man  tried  it  once ;  he  took  a 
young  robin  out  of  the  nest  and  fed  it  all  day,  and 
it  ate  fourteen  feet  of  good,  fat  worm,  —  as  much 
as  if  you  should  eat  forty  chickens,  at  least.  They 
are  greedy  little  creatures.  Think  what  a  number 
of  worms  are  made  only  to  feed  the  young  robins 
every  year.  Are  the  robins  of  any  use  to  the 
farmers  ? 

Mabel.  —  I  don't  know.  I  should  think  they  did 
harm,  for  they  bite  the  cherries  and  strawberries, 


84        HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

and  spoil  nearly  all  of  ours  ;  and  in  the  fall  they 
bite  the  ripe  apples  and  pears. 

Teacher.  —  True;  but,  for  all  that,  they  benefit 
the  farmer  much  more  than  they  injure  him.  They 
eat  up  myriads  of  destructive  worms  and  caterpil- 
lars and  bugs  which  would  spoil  much  vegetation 
and  fruit.  Do  they  rise  early,  or  late,  in  the  morn- 
ing? 

Bertha.  —  Oh,  very  early.  I  think  they  must 
get  up  before  daylight,  for  they  begin  to  sing  just 
when  a  little  faint  streak  of  dawn  comes  through 
the  window. 

Teacher.  —  They  are  up  by  half-past  three.  Who 
can  describe  their  song  ? 

Mabel.  —  I  know  just  how  it  goes.  It  is  a  little 
sad  at  night,  but  very  musical,  I  think. 

Teacher.  —  I  am  glad  you  have  noticed  it. 
Has  any  one  heard  their  call  to  their  mates,  or 
their  chirp  to  the  young  ones  ? 

Maggie.  —  Yes,  indeed  ;  when  they  try  to  get 
the  young  ones  to  fly,  they  chirp  all  the  time. 

Ethel.  —  In  the  elm-trees,  on  our  street,  you 
hear  them  all  day  long,  in  June,  and  it  sounds  like 
a  jolly  chatter. 

Teacher.  — Their  family  name  is  Thrush.    They 


ORAL  LESSONS.  85 

are  coming  toward  us  now,  flying  quite  high,  in 
merry  companies,  from  the  South.  Soon  the  Blue- 
birds will  start,  and  fly  still  higher,  singing  loudly 
and  clearly  on  the  wing,  —  the  prelude  of  the 
spring  to  the  snow-bound  North.  Watch  for  him, 
and  tell  me  of  his  size,  his  color,  and  his  habits, 
when  you  see  him. . 

Bertha.  —  I  saw  a  whole  flock  of  them  alight  on 
the  telegraph-wire  and  fences  and  trees  around,  as 
I  was  driving  yesterday  on  the  Acushnet  road. 
They  did  look  lovely ;  so  blue,  and  such  a  pretty 
blue! 

Teacher.  —  They  want  some  nice  holes,  or  bird- 
houses,  or  boxes,  to  live  in.  I  hope  they  will  find 
them  and  get  sheltered  soon,  for  we  shall  have 
some  bitter  cold  days  yet.  Is  the  Bluebird's 
egg  blue? 

Helen.  —  Yes,  light  blue,  sometimes  white.  I 
will  bring  one  to-morrow. 

Teacher.  —  Now,  for  a  while,  the  Bluebird  must 
eat  berries ;  but  later,  bugs  and  beetles.  It  springs 
from  the  twig  or  perch,  and  snaps  up  the  flying 
insect  in  the  air,  or  the  beetle  and  grasshop- 
per from  the  grass.  Has  it  any  color  but  blue 
about  it? 


8  HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TA.UGHT? 

Lulu.  —  It  has  a  kind  of  red  breast,  and  partly 
white  underneath. 

Teacher.  —  It  comes  in  March,  sometimes  in 
February,  and  builds  its  nest  in  April.  It  lays  its 
first  brood  of  eggs  in  May,  but  it  often  has  two  or 
three  broods  in  the  course  of  the  summer,  and 
they  eat  up  myriads  of  insects.  They  go  away 
again  in  October.  Their  song  is  sweet,  but  a 
little  sad.  Now  they  come  flying  on  their  long 
journey  through  the  windy  sky,  singing  as  they 
come.  How  do  you  suppose  they  know  the  way  ? 

Hattie. — That's  what  I  always  wonder. 

Teacher.  —  So  everybody  wonders.  I  read  a 
long  article  in  a  British  magazine,  the  other  day, 
upon  the  migrations  of  birds,  but  it  did  not  solve 
the  riddle,  to  my  mind.  Many  people  think  the 
birds  have  a  way  of  knowing  things,  so  different 
from  any  way  we  know  of  seeing  or  hearing  that 
we  cannot  understand  it,  —  another  sense  which 
guides  them  ;  others  think  they  learn  the  road  by 
their  keen  sight  and  hearing,  and  that  they  have 
a  regular  track,  which  each  generation  of  birds 
teaches  to  the  next,  and  on  which  they  have  signs 
or  guide-posts  for  following.  Great  flocks  of  birds 
that  go  from  Africa  to  Europe,  every  year,  cross 


ORAL  LESSONS.  87 

the  Mediterranean  at  the  same  places,  by  just  the 
same  routes ;  one  across  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar, 
and  two  others  farther  east.  But  we  can't  under- 
stand the  birds  as  they  understand  each  other. 
God  takes  care  of  them,  and  shows  them  in  some 
way  what  path  to  take.  Now,  Carrie  and  Maggie, 
repeat  together  the  last  verse  of  Bryant's  poem, 
which  you  recited  in  concert  yesterday ;  and  all 
be  sure,  before  our  next  lesson,  to  observe  the 
birds  as  they  arrive. 
Carrie  and  Maggie.  — 

"  He  who,  from  zone  to  zone, 
Guides  through  the  boundless  sky  thy  certain  flight, 

In  the  long  way  that  I  must  tread  alone 
Will  lead  my  steps  aright." 


ORAL  LESSONS  IN  BOTANY. 
I. 

Teacher.  —  Close  against  our  windows  comes 
the  bough  of  the  Birch-tree  which  grows  in  the 
yard.  See !  its  twigs  are  all  naked  except  for 
these  little  buds,  and  yet,  in  three  weeks  perhaps, 
it  will  be  covered  with  the  prettiest  little  green 


88        HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

plaited  leaves.  I  will  break  off  a  twig  for  each  of 
you,  and  you  may  tell  me  what  you  observe  upon 
it.  What  color  is  it  ? 

Ethel.  —  It  is  dark  brown. 

Teacher.  —  Yes  ;  it  is  the  Sweet  Birch.  Taste 
of  the  bark. 

Ethel.  —  It  is  good ;  something  like  Sassafras. 
I  thought  the  Birch-tree  had  white  bark. 

Teacher.  —  The  White  Birch  has ;  this  is  an- 
other kind  of  Birch.  They  are  alike  in  the  kind 
of  flowers  they  bear,  and  the  kind  of  leaves,  and 
in  the  twigs  and  bark  having  this  spicy  taste,  also 
in  the  way  the  outer  bark  will  strip  off  in  thin 
layers.  How  do  the  leaves  grow  on  the  stem  — 
ppposite  or  alternate  ? 

Sylvia.  —  They  are  alternate.  Do  they  always 
come  so,  Mrs.  ? 

Teacher.  —  Yes  ;  the  same  plant  never  varies  in 
the  arrangement  of  its  leaves  on  the  stem.  Look 
out  of  the  west  window  at  the  Maple-tree.  How 
do  those  buds  grow  on  the  stem  ? 

Gertrude.  —  They  are  opposite  ;  and  the  twigs 
are  opposite  on  the  branches. 

Teacher.  —  Those  buds  are  flower-buds  on  the 
Maple.  On  the  Birch  they  are  leaf-buds.  Now 


ORAL  LESSONS,  89 

remember  that  flowers  and  leaves  grow  either 
opposite  or  alternate  on  their  stems,  in  most 
cases,  but  in  a  few  they  are  set  right  around  the 
stem  in  a  sort  of  ruffle,  —  they  are  whorled.  Op- 
posite, alternate,  and  whorled  are  names  for  the 
manner  in  which  the  leaves  or  flowers  are  ar- 
ranged on  the  ste'm.  Repeat  it.  But  look  again 
at  your  Sweet  Birch  stem.  Scrape  off  a  little  of 
the  brown  bark.  What  do  you  see  now  ? 

Louie, — A  nice,  fresh,  green  skin.     It  is  damp. 

Teacher.  —  Pull  that  off.  Now  what  do  you 
find  ? 

Maggie,  —  The  wood.  It  is  a  little  wet,  and 
very  smooth. 

Teacher.  —  Look  at  the  ends  of  the  twigs  where 
they  were  broken  off. 

Carrie  —  Mine  drips  with  water. 

Teacher.  —  That  is  the  blood  of  the  tree;  the 
sap  which  runs  through  its  veins  and  cells,  and 
will  build  up  the  twig,  and  turn  the  buds  into 
leaves.  The  little  green  inner  bark  has  kept  food 
for  the  tree  stored  up  all  winter,  and  now  the  sap 
is  beginning  to  rise  from  the  roots  up  through  the 
wood,  and  both  together  provide  nourishment  for 
the  buds,  and,  as  they  absorb  it,  they  make  more 


9O       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE   TAUGHT* 

and  more  cells,  and  grow  from  buds  to  leaves. 
How  do  you  think  the  sap  gets  up  so  far  ?  All 
this  hard  wood  is  made  up  of  the  hard  cases  of 
long  fine  boxes  or  cells  filled  with  sap.  The  roots 
of  the  tree  suck  up  from  the  ground,  as  soon  as 
it  is  soft,  moisture  and  particles  of  plant-food,  and 
this  is  carried  from  one  cell  to  another,  through 
little  pores  in  the  partitions  at  the  ends  of  the 
cells,  oozing  up  and  mixing  with  what  is  already 
there,  running  through  the  veins  quite  fast,  now 
that  spring  has  come.  See  how  the  ends  of  the 
broken  twigs  on  the  tree  drip  !  How  fast  all  this 
food  will  be  made  into  the  pretty,  plaited  leaves 
you  will  see  day  by  day.  The  tree  is  working 
very  fast  with  all  its  machinery  of  cells,  roots, 
sap,  bark,  and  buds.  Now  open  the  bud,  and 
tell  me  how  it  is  put  together,  and  what  you  find. 

Mabel.  —  It  has  some  sticky  leaves  or  brown 
scales  outside.  Then  inside  are  little  fine  folded- 
up  leaves,  folded  up  something  like  a  fan,  all 
crimped  and  plaited  —  oh,  so  fine!  all  folded 
alike,  with  little  pointed  edges.  Isn't  it  pretty  ? 

Teacher.  —  In  a  week  we  will  examine  the 
leaves  more  carefully.  Do  you  see  any  marks 
on  the  stems,  below  the  leaves  ? 


ORAL  LESSONS.  9 1 

Lily. — There  are  some  smooth,  flat  places. 
What  are  they? 

Teacher.  —  They  are  the  places  where  last 
year's  leaves  came  off.  The  scars,  we  call  them. 
When  you  find  a  Horse-chestnut  stem  or  twig, 
notice  .how  large  and  plain  the  scars  are.  The 
leaf  fell  off  in  the  fall,  you  know.  Do  all  plants 
lose  their  leaves  in  the  fall  ? 

Madge.  —  No  ;  the  Pine-tree  does  not. 

Alice.  —  There  are  some  trees  over  in  that  yard 
that  are  green  all  winter. 

Teacher.  —  The  Spruce  and  Hemlock,  and  all 
trees  called  Evergreens,  keep  their  leaves,  and 
form  new  twigs  with  new  leaves  on  them  at  the 
end  of  their  boughs  each  spring.  The  trees  all 
form  that  inner  bark  fresh  every  year,  and  it  saves 
up  the  food  for  the  new  parts  to  grow  with  in  the 
spring  before  the  roots  can  get  much  food  from 
the  frozen  ground.  The  sun,  becoming  warmer, 
sets  all  the  growing  machinery  at  work.  The 
inner  bark,  soft  at  first,  grows  hard  by  the  end  of 
the  summer  and  another  inner  bark  is  formed  over 
it,  so  that,  as  every  successive  year  this  layer  of 
bark  is  made,  it  always  shows  a  line  of  separation 
between  it  and  the  outer  layer ;  and  when^  you 


92        HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

saw  off  a  tree  horizontally,  on  its  trunk  you  see 
the  rings  all  around  the  centre  quite  plainly.  In 
this  way,  one  can  tell  how  many  years  old  a 
tree  is. 

Holly.  — Will  all  these  buds  grow  and  open  ? 

Teacher.  —  Perhaps  not.  Some  may  die  and 
fall  off,  if  the  sun  doesn't  shine  directly  on  them. 
The  frost  may  come  and  kill  some,  or  a  little 
worm  or  insect  may  eat  others.  The  leaves  will 
not  probably  be  quite  as  regular  and  many  on  the 
twig  as  these  little  buds.  Now,  do  you  want  a 
hard  word  before  you  go  ?  Exogenous  is  the  word. 
This  is  an  exogenous  stem  ;  it  grows  by  adding 
every  year  to  the  outside  of  the  stem.  So  do  all 
our  trees ;  but  the  Palm-tree  or  a  corn-stalk  or  a 
cane,  and  others,  grow  by  adding  to  the  inside  of 
the  stem,  which  looks  like  a  large  bundle  of  fibres, 
new  fibres  or  threads  each  year.  They  are  en- 
dogenous stems.  Endogenous  stems  have  no 
branches,  but  all  their  leaf-stems  come  out  at  the 
top  of  the  stalk.  Exogenous  stems  have  a  pith 
or  soft  part,  of  cells  in  the  middle,  wood  around 
it,  and  bark  outside,  and  they  have  many 
branches,  a  new  set  every  year  on  the  whole 
length  of  the  stem. 


ORAL   LESSONS.  93 

You  have  now  learned  the  peculiarities  of  the 
Birch-stem,  the  arrangement  of  buds  in  three  dif- 
ferent ways  upon  different  plants,  the  growth  of 
the  bud  just  above  the  scar  of  the  last  year's 
growth,  the  way  in  which  the  buds  are  fed  while 
the  ground  is  yet  hard,  the  formation  and  method 
of  growth  of  this  branch  and  most  trees,  and  the 
distinction  between  the  exogenous  and  endoge- 
nous stems.  Bring  any  budded  stem  or  opening 
leaves,  or  any  other  subject  for  explanation  about 
plants  to-morrow,  and  we  will  examine  it ;  and,  at 
all  events,  in  a  few  days  we  will  look  again  at  our 
Birch  leaf-buds,  and  our  Maple  flower-buds,  and 
see  what  we  may  learn  about  them.  Bring  a 
Horse-chestnut  stem  budded,  if  you  can. 

Teddy.  —  I  can,  and  a  good  many  other  stems, 
too. 

II. 

Teacher.  —  We  have  come  into  the  green-house 
to  study  the  climbing-plants  :  we  must  look  to  see 
how  they  climb,  what  parts  they  have  which  are 
for  only  that  purpose,  and  how  those  parts  do  the 
work  of  climbing  for  the  plant,  to  lift  it  into  the 
warmth  and  light.  Some  of  the  climbers  you  know 


94        HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

very  well  by  name.  I  see  several  vines  of  English 
Ivy ;  I  want  you  all  to  look  closely  at  them  to  see 
how  they  climb  the  wall  or  trellis  they  are  upon. 

Louise.  —  This  one  seems  to  stick  tightly  to 
the  wall. 

Bertha. —  They  have  little  roots  which  go  into 
the  cracks. 

Teacher.  — Where  do  those  rootlets  come  from  ? 

Ethel. — Out  of  the  stem  on  the  side  next  to 
the  wall. 

Teacher.  —  Do  you  see  any  which  have  not 
attached  themselves  or  taken  hold  of  the  wall  ? 

Edith.  —  This  vine  has  lots  of  dried  threads 
hanging  from  it ;  are  they  the  roots  ? 

Teacher.  —  Look  at  Edith's  vine  which  is  run- 
ning along  the  wire.  The  rootlets  are  all  hanging 
withered  from  it  because,  having  searched  in  vain 
for  something  to  cling  to,  they  have  given  it  up, 
and  died  of  uselessness. 

Hattie.  —  How  do  they  know  anything,  or  feel 
about  of  their  own  accord  ? 

TeacJier. —  That  is  a  hard  question  to  answer ; 
so  you  will  need  to  use  your  eyes  well,  and  try,  by 
the  time  the  lesson  is  over,  to  answer  it  yourselves. 
If  you  could  watch  these  little  roots  which  put 


ORAL   LESSONS.  95 

out  from  the  stem,  you  would  see  them  feeling 
about  for  a  deeper  cleft  or  a  more  uneven  surface, 
and  when  they  find  it  they  stop,  and  their  ends 
flatten  into  little  disks  like  saucers,  which  hold  on 
just  as  a  leather  sucker  holds  on  to  the  surface 
you  apply  it  to.  Bring  the  miscroscope  and  look 
carefully  at  them ;  see  the  disc  which  holds  this 
rootlet  fast. 

Maggie.  —  It  is  like  the  snail's  foot. 

Carrie.  —  It  is  like  the  sea-weed,  where  it 
fastens  to  a  shell. 

Teacher.  —  Does  the  German  Ivy  climb  so  ? 
Look  at  this  on  the  trellis. 

Louie.  —  No,  it  twines  around.  I  think  the 
German  Ivy  is  prettier  than  the  English  ;  it  is 
greener  and  more  delicate. 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  but  in  England,  where  the 
climate  is  warmer  and  moister  in  winter  than 
here,  the  English  ivy  is  greener  and  fresher, — 
not  of  the  sombre,  dark  green  and  brown  that 
you  always  see  here.  In  New  Bedford  the 
English  ivy  thrives  better  out-of-doors  than  in 
most  places  in  New  England.  Where  does  it 
grow  most  luxuriantly  here  ? 

Bertha.  —  On    Mr.    Allen's  house,   and  on  the 


96        HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

stone  cottage  on  County  Street.  Oh,  Mrs.  H.,  I 
threw  a  snowball  up  to  the  ivy  on  the  side  of  Mr. 
Allen's  house,  the  other  day,  and  out  flew  the 
greatest  flock  of  English  sparrows.  I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  them.  I  didn't  know  there  were 
so  many  in  town. 

Teacher.  —  Well,  that  is  good  ;  the  ivy  shelters 
the  birds  ;  perhaps  the  birds  reciprocate  by  eating 
up  the  bugs  that  might  destroy  the  ivy.  There  is 
a  great  deal  of  mutual  help  in  nature.  But  have 
you  observed  more  carefully  how  the  German  ivy 
climbs  ?  Ethel,  you  tell  us  what  you  see. 

Ethel.  —  I  see  it  twisting  around  the  wire  by 
its  stem. 

Teacher.  —  All  tell  me  whether  it  is  by  the 
leaf-stem  or  the  main  stalk. 

All.  —  By  the  main  stalk. 

Gertrude.  —  The  stem  is  all  kinky  trying  to  get 
around. 

Hattie.  —  How  does  it  get  around  ? 

Teacher.  —  I  will  show  you  before  we  go. 
Look  at  the  Nasturtium  vines ;  how  do  they 
climb  —  by  the  main  stem,  or  by  the  leaf-stalk  ? 

Alice. — This  one  holds  on  by  its  leaf-stems. 
Just  see  how  funny  those  stems  look  that  have 


ORAL   LESSONS. 

not  got  hold  !  they  are  bent  right  up, 
turned  a  square  corner. 

Teacher.  —  That  is  to  push  the  pretty,  shie 
shaped  leaf  up  with  its  face  to  the  light ;  as  it  is 
clinging  to  a  horizontal  support,  it  has  to  turn 
the  stem  around  suddenly  to  accomplish  it.  Do 
you  all  see  how  it  twists  its  leaf-stems  around 
the  string,  and  how  the  plant  climbs  in  that  way  ? 
This,  now,  is  the  third  way  in  which  we  have 
seen  the  plants  climbing,  since  we  came  in. 
Here  is  the  Passion  Flower,  whose  leaf-stalk  is 
long  and  much  twined. 

Helen.  —  Do  just  come  to  see  this  lovely  vine  ; 
what  is  it  ? 

Teacher.  —  It  is  called  Campsidium  Filicifolium. 
It  has  no  common  name.  I  admire  it,  it  is  so 
delicately  beautiful.  What  does  it  remind  you  of, 
Hattie  ? 

Hattie.  —  I  have  seen  ferns  which  look  like  it. 
Its  leaf  is  more  finished  and  elegant,  I  think  ; 
don't  you,  Mrs.  H.  ? 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  it  is  a  kind  of  fern,  and  its  leaf 
much  like  the  frond  of  the  fern  ;  but  every  part  of 
its  compound  leaf  is  as  perfect  as  if  it  were  the 
only  thing  the  spirit  of  the  plant  had  to  express 


98        nOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

itself  in.  Look  at  this  fine,  tapering  point  of 
the  stem  reaching  out  from  the  line  where  it 
climbs  ;  it  goes  round  slowly,  seeking  its  orbit, 
and  makes  the  circuit  in  just  the  time  nature 
has  appointed  for  it ;  by  to-night,  perhaps,  it  will 
have  reached  this  side  and  will  point  opposite.  It 
is  twining  and  twining,  while  its  leaves  unfold  to 
grace  the  air  and  adorn  the  trellis.  It  twines  by 
its  main  stalk,  like  the  German  Ivy,  and  the  end 
looks  almost  like  a  tendril,  but  it  develops  leaves 
and  buds  as  it  grows.  Come  with  me  ;  I  want  to 
show  you  a  vine  with  compound  leaves,  where  the 
mid-vein  spins  out  into  a  long,  slender  tendril. 
Here  it  is.  It  would  be  hard  work  to  disentangle 
the  leaves.  Look  and  tell  me  about  it. 

Louise.  —  It  has  a  compound  leaf,  and  it  is 
fastened  at  both  ends,  —  by  one  to  the  stem,  and 
by  the  other  to  the  trellis. 

Teacher.  —  Are  the  tendrils  straight,  or  curled  ? 
(Some  answer  "  Yes"  and  some  "No.")  Are  the 
straight  tendrils  those  that  have  begun  to  twine 
or  not  ? 

Maggie.  —  Oh,  isn't  it  queer  !  they  are  straight 
before  they  get  hold  of  anything,  and  curled  all 
up  tight  afterward. 


ORAL   LESSONS.  99 

Teacher.  —  The  long,  straight  tendril  sweeps 
its  point  around  till  it  finds  a  chance  to  cling; 
then,  being  so  long,  the  leaf  is  a  good  way  off, 
and  so  the  tendril  begins  to  coil  between"  the 
support  and  the  leaf,  to  bring  the  stalk  near  its 
support.  Does  it  coil  one  way  exclusively  ? 

Helen.  —  Oh,  rfo ;  it  goes  on  the  same  way  for  a 
while,  and  then  turns  round  and  goes  the  other 
way,  —  just  like  the  reverse  waltz.  What  is  that 
for? 

Teacher.  —  Do  you  all  see  it  ?  Would  it  not 
twist  the  stem  too  much  if  this  were  not  so  ?  It 
is  an  ingenious  device.  It  seems  as  if  the  tendril 
thought  about  it.  Did  you  ever  see  the  grape- 
vine tendrils  do  the  same  ? 

Bertha.  —  Yes,  indeed ;  I  know  just  how  they 
look.  How  can  they  do  it  ?  Are  they  creatures 
to  know  ? 

Louise. — Do   you   remember   about  that  Mur- 

\ 
derer  Vine  in  the  Amazon  forest,  that  you  showed 

me  a  picture  of  ? 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  I  do,  and  so  do  you  all. 


100       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 


III. 

Tvacher.  —  We  spoke  of  the  Birch-tree  storing 
up  its  nourishment  for  the  early  leaf-buds,  in  the 
inner  bark.  Nearly  all  plants  save  food  in  some 
of  their  parts  for  the  next  year's*  growth.  This  is 
what  seems  to  me  a  proof  of  God's  presence  in  it 
and  care  for  it,  —  the  Providence  which  we  use  as 
a  name  for  God.  Here  is  a  little  plant  living 
almost  wholly  upon  that  food  provided  last  year 
for  its  growth  this  year.  What  is  it  ? 

Class.  —  It  is  a  bean  growing  in  water. 

Teacher.  —  The  split  bean  is  really  two  thick 
leaves,  which  serve  as  food  for  the  plant  which  is 
growing  up  from  the  little  bud  or  germ  that  was 
set  between  them  like  a  little  tooth.  That  little 
germ  was  the  real  seed,  and  sent  down  these 
roots,  and  sent  up  this  stem  which  is  opening  into 
buds  and  leaves.  Tell  me  of  other  plants  that 
will  grow  so  in  water  living  on  its  stored-up  food 
for  a  while. 

Mabel,  —  The  Flax-seed  will.  I  put  some 
cotton-wool  on  the  top  of  a  glass  of  water,  and  in 
a  week  or  two  the  glass  was  filled  with  delicate 


ORAL  LESSONS.  IOI 

rootlets  and  the  light  green  stems  and  leaves 
grew  up,  with  afterward  a  gentle  blue  flower  here 
and  there  among  them. 

Sylvia.  —  I  have  some  Hyacinths  in  bulb- 
glasses,  and  they  are  all  in  bloom  beautifully  in 
my  window. 

Teacher. — Where  have  they  found  the  food 
which  has  nourished  them  ?  The  bean,  you  see, 
is  gradually  shrivelling  as  it  gives  up  its  food  to 
the  plant.  How  is  it  with  the  Hyacinth  ?  Do 
you  see  any  part  which  seems  to  be  giving 
and  fading  while  the  plant  is  gaining  all  the 
time  ? 

Sylvia.  —  It  is  the  bulb  that  becomes  less  and 
less  every  day.  It  must  be  that  which  has  the 
food. 

Teacher.  —  Now,  I  believe,  if  you  think,  you 
can  tell  me  how  the  bulb  must  have  been  formed. 
What  part  of  the  last  year's  plant  might  have 
been  transformed  into  the  bulb.  Did  you  see  that 
great  Mexican  plant  in  the  green-house,  the  other 
day  ?  I  showed  you  the  long  leaves,  so  exceed- 
ingly thick  toward  the  ground,  and  how  as  they 
thickened  and  packed  themselves  at  the  base,  the 
upper  part  shrivelled  and  fell  off.  I  have  a  bulb 


102      UOIV  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

which  is  just  brought  up  from  the  cellar;  what 
were  all  these  layers  last  year  ? 

Maggie.  —  Oh,  were  they  the  leaves  ? 

Louie.  —  Yes ;  I  suppose  the  leaves  thickened 
and  closed  together  at  the  base,  and  the  tops 
withered  and  fell  off. 

Teacher.  —  Yes  ;  that  was  the  way  the  wise 
plant  took  to  save  itself  for  early  growth  another 
year.  Here  is  another  bulb  which  has  sprouted 
in  the  warm,  damp  cellar,  and  much  of  the 
nourishment  has  already  gone  from  the  bulb  to 
the  new  leaves. 

Ethel.  —  What  makes  the  leaves  so  light  and 
yellow  ? 

Teacher.  —  The  want  of  sunlight,  which  gives 
the  green  color  to  plants.  The  celery  is  kept  in  a 
dark  place  or  covered  purposely,  so  that  it  shall 
be  crisp  and  white.  Now  here  is  a  turnip,  a 
carrot,  and  a  cabbage.  Tell  me,  Gertrude,  where 
they  have  stored  their  provision. 

Gertrude.  —  The  cabbage  has  stored  it  in  the 
leaves.  Is  it  a  bulb  ? 

Teacher.  —  No ;  because  the  whole  leaf  is 
thickened  and  made  close  and  solid  ;  it  is  a  head. 
What  is  the  turnip  ?  Are  there  any  signs  of 


ORAL  LESSONS.  1 03 

leaves  in  it,  or  is  it  a  seed  with  food-leaves  like 
the  bean  ? 

Carrie.  —  I  should  think  it  is  a  root. 

Teacher.  —  So  it  is  ;  and  do  you  know  of  any 
other  thick  root  which  not  only  feeds  the  new 
plant,  but  feeds  us  when  we  choose  ? 

Edith.  —  Isn't  the  radish  one  ? 

Teacher.  —  Yes ;  tell  me  of  some  other  bulb,  Lily. 

Lily. — The  Lily  is  one;  not  I,  but  the  Lily- 
plant,  for  I  am  saving  some  bulbs  that  grand- 
mother gave  me  to  plant  in  my  garden. 

Teacher.  —  Now,  all  repeat  to  me  the  ways  we 
have  discovered  in  which  a  plant  lays  up  nourish- 
ment for  the  next  year's  plant. 

Class.  —  Inner  bark,  food-leaves  of  the  seed, 
bulbs,  and  roots. 

Teacher.  —  The  food-leaves  are  seed-leaves,  or 
cotyledons ;  write  the  word  cotyledons.  Here  are 
the  cotyledons  of  the  bean.  The  other  day,  in  the 
green-house,  we  saw  a  large  bed  of  little  plants 
just  sprung  up  from  the  seeds  which  had  been 
planted  in  the  ground.  I  pointed  out  the  two 
leaves  of  each  plant  nearest  the  ground,  and  you 
saw  how  they  differed  from  the  other  leaves; 
they  were  the  seed-leaves  or  cotyledons.  Watch 


IO4     HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

your    Morning-glories    and    Balsams    when    they 
begin  to  come  up  in  a  month  or  two  ;  the  seed- 
leaves  are  quite  different  from   the   true  leaves. 
Are  any  of  you  going  to  have  a  garden  ? 
Class.  —  Yes,  indeed. 
,  • 

IV. 

Teacher.  —  A  few  weeks  ago  we  observed  the 
Maple-tree  filled  with  flower-buds  ;  what  have  you 
seen  since  in  the  tree  ? 

Mabel.  —  You  called  our  attention  for  several 
days  to  the  tree,  when  it  was  all  alive  with  bees 
gathering  honey ;  a  swarm  of  bees  in  the  sunny 
air  flew  back  and  forth  between  this  tree  and  the 
one  opposite. 

Carrie.  —  Why  did  they  go  from  one  tree  to 
another  ? 

Edith.  —  There  were  flowers  on  the  other  tree 
also. 

Louie.  —  They  always  gather  honey  from  one 
kind  of  tree  or  blossom  at  the  same  time,  so  as 
not  to  mix  different  kinds  of  honey. 

Maggie.  —  Did  it  do  any  good  for  them  to  fly 
back  and  forth  ? 


ORAL   LESSONS.  1 05 

Teacher.  —  Those  who  read  in  the  Fairy  Land 
of  Science  last  term  can  tell  us. 

EtJiel.  --They  got  their  backs  and  heads  and 
legs  covered  with  pollen-dust  in  getting  the 
honey,  and  the  pollen  rubbed  off  of  them  on  to 
the  stigma,  to  turn  into  seeds  in  the  ovary  of  the 
flowers. 

Teacher.  —  Here  is  a  flower,  like  most  flowers, 
with  the  yellow  dust  of  the  pollen  ready  to  fall  on 
the  pistil,  which  is  in  the  middle  of  the  flower. 
But  examine  now  the  flower  of  this  Maple-tree, 
and  see  if  you  can  find  the  stigma. 

Class.  --  We  cannot. 

Teacher.  —  Now  look  at  these  flowers,  taken 
from  the  opposite  tree. 

Prescott.  --  The  stigma  is  in  these. 

Teacher.  —  See  what  kind,  neighborly  trees ! 
One  has  the  pollen,  the  other  the  ovary ;  and 
the  bees  and  the  breeze  work  and  carry  for 
them.  In  Nature  all  things  help  each  other. 
Now  on  which  tree  will  the  seeds  or'  the  fruit 
grow  ? 

Gertrude.  —  On  the  opposite  tree. 

Maggie.  —  Oh,  yes  ;  I  remember  all  the  Maple- 
keys  that  hang  down  red  from  some  of  the  Maple- 


106       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

trees,  and  then  turn  brown  and  fall  to  the  ground 
and  blow  away. 

Teacher.  —  Here  is  a  Pussy  Willow  twig ;  how 
will  this  little  furry  bud  develop  ? 

Carrie.  —  Into  a  drooping  spray  of  flowers 
called  a  catkin. 

Maggie.  —  There  are  two  kinds  of  Willow  cat- 
kins :  one  is  a  spray  of  little  light  flowers ;  the 
other  is  more  green,  and  less  like  a  flower. 

Teacher.  —  Can  you  guess,  then,  which  catkin 
has  the  pollen,  and  which  the  stigma  or  ovary, 
and,  therefore,  the  seed  ? 

Louie.  —  The  flowery  catkin  has  the  pollen,  and 
the  other  the  seed,  I  should  think. 

Teacher.  —  Have  you  ever  seen  the  seed-catkin 
all  covered  with  down  ? 

Several.  —  No  ;  that  is  green  without  the  fuzz. 

Others.  —  Yes  ;  later  the  seed-catkin  is  covered 
with  down. 

Teacher.  —  When  the  seed-catkin  has  ripened, 
and  the  seeds  are  all  ready  to  plant,  they  burst 
out  into  a  feathery,  white  down.  What  for, 
Ethel  ? 

Ethel.  —  Is  it  so  that  the  wind  will  blow  the 
seeds  about  ? 


ORAL   LESSONS.  IO? 

All.  —  Oh,  yes  ;  like  the  Dandelion-puff  and  the 
Thistle. 

Teacher.  —  You  are  right ;  like  the  beautiful 
Milkweed-seeds  also.  Now  you  see  why  the 
Maple-seeds  are  winged  —  for  the  same  purpose. 
What  is  this  twig  ?  How  very  ,  pretty !  How 
should  you  judge  this  to  be  from  an  Oak-tree  ? 

Dolly.  —  I  should  know  it  from  the  shape  of 
the  leaves. 

Teacher.  —  What  is  the  blossom  ? 

Class.  —  A  catkin.  Six  catkins  in  a  cluster, 
and  the  clusters  all  around  the  twig,  hanging 
below  the  leaves. 

Teacher.  —  Do  you  see  both  pollen  and  stigma 
here  ? 

Maggie.  —  There  is  no  stigma  in  these  flowers. 
Where  are  the  seed-flowers,  Mrs.  H.  ? 

Teacher.  —  What  do  you  see  close  to  the  stem, 
below  the  catkins  ? 

Carrie.  —  Little,  cunning  acorns,  just  beginning 
to  grow. 

Teacher.  —  What  do  you  see  at  the  point  of  the 
little  acorns  ? 

Sylvia.  —  I  see  three  little  stems  or  hairs. 

Teacher.  —  They   are   the   three   parts    of    the 


IOS       HO W  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

stigma,  and  when  the  pollen  from  the  catkins  falls, 
it  is  received  by  them  and  carried  to  the  ovary, 
making  the  seed  of  the  Acorn.  Look,  now,  at 
these  Horse-chestnut  blossoms.  Examine  them 
with  regard  to  the  pollen  and  the  stigma. 

Hetta.  —  Mine  have  the  pollen  but  no  stigma. 

Lily.  —  Mine  have  the  pollen  and  stigma  both. 

Louie.  —  One  of  mine  has  the  pollen  and  the 
other  the  ovary. 

Teacher.  —  You  all  are  right.  Some  of  the  flow- 
ers have  both  pollen  and  ovary;  some  have  only 
stamens  bearing  the  pollen,  and,  therefore,  will 
have  no  seeds  ;  they  are  the  staminate  or  sterile 
flowers.  Others  have  the  stigma,  —  the  top  of 
the  pistil  which  leads  to  the  ovary,  —  and,  there- 
fore, bear  seeds  ;  so  are  called  the  pistillate  or 
fertile  flowers.  Now  tell  me  whether  the  catkins 
of  the  Oak  are  staminate  or  pistillate. 

Class.  —  Staminate. 

Teacher.  —  And  how  is  it  with  the  early  Pussy 
Willow  catkins  ? 

L ouie.--  They  are  staminate,  and  the  green 
ones  pistillate. 

Teacher.  -  -  The  Maple-tree  which  bears  the 
staminate  flowers  ? 


ORAL  LESSONS.  IOQ 

Class.  --  The  one  close  to  the  window,  and  the 
opposite  one  has  the  pistillate  flowers  and  the 
seeds. 

Teacher.  —  There  are,  then,  three  methods  of 
arrangement  for  the  fruiting  of  the  plant.  One 
flower  may  contain  both  stamens  and  pistil  like 
the  Rose,  and  most  of  the  flowers  we  see ;  or,  one 
plant  may  have  the  staminate  flowers  and  another 
the  pistillate,  like  the  Willow  and  the  Maple  ;  or, 
the  same  plant  may  have  the  staminate  flower  on 
one  part,  and  the  pistillate  flower  on  another  part 
of  it,  like  the  Oak  and  like  the  lovely  Indian  Corn, 
whose  plume  of  staminate  flowers  waves  on  high, 
while  its  sea-green  silk  pistils  are  folded  in  their 
beautiful  sheath  below,  waiting  for  the  grains  of 
pollen  to  seek  its  long,  silky  channels,  and  rest  in 
its  ovary  cells,  all  to  develop  into  the  ripened 
rows  of  amber  corn,  the  matchless  beauty  of  the 
set  gems  of  the  corn-fruit.  In  the  Chestnut  we 
have  a  combination  of  all  these  methods.  Using 
the  technical  terms,  which  we  will  analyze  to 
understand,  we  find,  therefore,  the  Monoecious 
form,  like  the  Oak ;  the  Dioecious,  like  the  Wil- 
lows ;  and  the  Polygamous,  like  the  Chestnuts. 

Mabel.  —  I  think  this  is  the  most  interesting 


HO       no IV  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

part  of  botany,  to  watch  how  the  flowers  make 
seeds. 

Carrie.  —  It  seems  as  if  they  all  knew  some- 
thing ;  do  they  ? 

Maggie.  —  There  must  be  a  thought  about  it. 

Teacher.  —  How  sweet  it  is  to  see  and  feel  that 
thought,  and  know  that  it  is  the  same  thought 
that  is  trying  to  act  in  our  lives  as  easily  and 
truly  as  it  acts  in  the  flowers  ! 


CHAPTER   X. 

PRIMARY   CLASS   IN    PHYSICS. 
I. 

Teacher.  —  Prescott,  yesterday  I  saw  you  draw- 
ing Dick  up  Union  Street  in  your  cart.  Was  it 
as  easy  for  you  as  to  draw  him  down  the  hill  ? 

Prescott.  —  No,  ma'am  ;  but  I  had  to  hold  back 
almost  as  hard  going  down. 

Teddy.  —  The  cart  goes  itself  down  the  hill. 

Teacher.  —  Oh,  no;  something  is  pulling  it  down 
which  you  didn't  see.  Let  go  of  that  book  in 
your  hand  ;  what  made  it  go  down  ? 

Willie.  —  It  is  heavy. 

Teacher.  —  What  does  heavy  mean  ? 

Prescott.  —  Hard  to  hold  up. 

Teddy.  —  It  pushes  hard. 

Teacher.  — There  is  a  power  of  the  earth  which 
pulls  everything  toward  it.  It  is  called  gravita- 
tion. You  may  all  write  the  word.  It  makes 
things  seem  heavy  when  they  push  hard  toward 
in 


112       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

the  earth,  or  have  much  weight.  Did  you  ever 
try  to  lift  something  which  you  could  not  lift, 
which  was  too  heavy  for  you  ? 

Lottie.  —  I  tried  to  lift  Willie's  boat,  and  it  was 
too  heavy. 

Teacher.  —  The  earth  pulled  it  stronger  than 
you  could.  The  earth  pulls  all  things  all  the 
time.  Can  you  think  of  anything  which  will  not 
drop  when  you  let  it  go  ? 

Madge.  —  A  feather  will  fly  away,  and  a  seed 
and  leaves  sometimes. 

Teacher.  —  There  is  something  you  do  not  see 
which  holds  them  up,  although  the  earth  still 
pulls  them  down.  Who  knows  what  ? 

Maggie.  —  The  wind  blows  the  leaves,  and  the 
hot  air  will  keep  up  any  light  thing  over  the 
register. 

Teacher.  —  The  air  holds  up  everything,  some- 
what. A  feather  is  so  spread  out,  and  there  is  so 
little  of  it,  really,  that  the  earth  does  not  pull  it 
down  so  strongly  as  the  air  holds  it  up,  and  the 
hot  air  pushes  up  still  more  than  cold  air.  If  you 
hold  a  piece  of  paper  on  the  palm  of  your  hand, 
your  hand  holds  it  up  ;  if  you  take  your  hand 
away,  it  goes  slowly  to  the  ground,  because  the 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS.  I  13 

air  still  partially  supports  it,  and  its  substance  is 
so  spread  out  that  it  gives  a  large  surface  for  the 
air  to  support,  compared  with  the  weight  of  it,  or 
the  force  with  which  the  earth  pulls  it  down. 
Now  a  great  part  of  the  force  which  men  use  is 
used  in  resisting  this  force  of  the  earth,  or  in  lift- 
ing things  which  are  heavy.  The  other  day  I  saw 
a  man  lifting  very  heavy  bales  into  a  high  window 
in  a  warehouse.  How  do  you  suppose  he  did  it  ? 
by  just  pulling  them  up  with  a  rope  ? 

Teddy.  —  I  guess  he  had  a  pulley. 

Teacher.  —  So  he  did.  Show  me  what  a  pulley 
is ;  draw  a  picture  of  one  on  the  board. 

Teddy.  —  He  had  a  rope  fastened  to  the  bale, 
and  it  went  up  over  a  little  wheel  which  was  fas- 
tened to  a  beam  high  up,  and  the  rope  hung 
down  the  other  side  of  the  wheel  for  the  man 
to  pull. 

Prescott.  —  When  he  pulls  down,  the  bale  goes 
up. 

Teacher.  —  That  is  a  contrivance  to  make  it 
easier  to  pull.  Such  contrivances  are  called 
machines.  Did  you  ever  see  a  man  try  to  lift  a 
rock  which  was  too  heavy  for  him,  by  any  other 
machine  ?  Prescott,  if  you  had  been  with  Lottie 


114      HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

when  she  tried  to  lift  that  boat,  what  could  you 
have  done  to  help  her  ? 

Prescott.  —  I  might  have  pried  it  up  with  a 
stick ;  or,  if  I  could  have  got  a  crowbar  like  that 
the  men  had  to  get  those  stones  for  the  cellar  up 
on  to  the  truck,  I  could  have  done  it  easily. 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  the  crowbar ;  that  is  a  ma- 
chine ;  a  very  simple  one ;  only  an  iron  bar.  It 
is  like  having  a  very  long,  strong  arm,  like  a 
gorilla.  Aren't  you  glad  that  God  gave  a  man  a 
mind  to  think  of  machines,  and  did  not  have  to 
make  him  like  an  ape  ?  What  other  machines  has 
man  invented  to  help  lift  ?  I  will  make  this 
square  to  represent  the  heavy  thing  which  is  to 
be  lifted.  Here  is  a  line  for  the  string  to  lift  it 
by.  Now  let  us  have  it  wind  over  this  axle,  which 
has  a  handle  at  the  end  for  a  man  to  turn.  What 
does  that  look  like  a  picture  of  ? 

Class.  —  A  well,  and  drawing  up  the  bucket. 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  it  is  a  machine  called  a  wind- 
lass. It  is  easier  to  put  the  strength  of  a  man,  or 
of  a  horse,  or  of  steam,  or  any  other  power  upon 
turning  that  handle,  or  what  is  the  same  thing, 
turning  a  wheel,  than  it  is  to  set  it  at  work  merely 
lifting.  Now,  in  the  pulley,  which  is  a  string  run- 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS.  US 

ning  over  a  wheel,  you  can  easily  set  some  other 
force  than  man's  strength  at  work.  I  will  make 
this  picture  of  the  bale  of  goods,  and  the  rope 
which  lifts  it  running  over  the  wheel.  Now,  in- 
stead of  having  a  man  pull  the  rope  down,  sup- 
pose I  want  a  horse  to  pull  it  ;  what  shall  I  do  ? 

Teddy.  —  Make  another  wheel,  fastened  to  the 
floor  of  the  loft,  and  let  the  rope  go  round  that,  so 
that  a  horse  can  be  fastened  to  it  and  walk  along, 
pulling  it,  and  back  when  he  lets  it  down., 

Teacher.  —  Suppose  I  can't  get  the  horse  up  in- 
to the  loft  very  well  ? 

Prescott.  —  Why,  let  him  be  down  on  the 
ground,  and  have  the  other  pulley  down  there, 
and  it  will  be  all  the  same, — just  as  they  do  at 
the  coal  yards  to  load  the  vessels  with  coal. 

Teacher.  —  Tell  me  of  all  the  machines  you 
have  seen,  for  the  next  lesson.  Write  the  names 
of  them  on  a  paper,  and  be  ready  to  explain  when 
and  how  they  worked  when  you  saw  them  ;  and  if 
you  ever  have  something  to  do  which  you  think 
at  first  you  cannot  do,  set  your  wits  at  work  to 
think  of  a  way  to  get  some  other  power  to  help 
you.  Invent  a  machine  to  do  your  work  for  you. 
That  is  the  way  for  a  Yankee  boy  or 


Sj'JjasiT! 
&tr»A**\^ 


II 6       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

for  every  one  who  wants  to  accomplish  much  in 
the  world. 

II. 

Teacher.  —  Here  is  the  ash-cart,  children  ;  there 
are  three  barrels  full  of  ashes.  They  will  be 
heavy  for  the  man  to  lift. 

Prescott.  —  I  know  how  he  will  get  them  up. 
He  will  take  the  back-board  out,  and  lean  it  up 
against  the  cart  and  roll  the  barrel  up. 

Teddy.  —  Then  all  the  ashes  will  fall  out. 

Prescott.  —  Well,  if  they  were  flour-barrels,  he 
could  roll  them  up. 

Teacher.  —  Suppose  they  were  flour-barrels,  why 
would  he  roll  them  up  ? 

Willie.  —  It  isn't  so  hard  to  lift  them. 

Teacher.  —  The  board  partly  supports  them  ;  it 
is  a  machine ;  it  makes  it  easier  to  overcome 
gravitation,  and  adds  to  the  force  of  the  man. 
That  board,  or  anything  which  gives  a  slanting 
surface  on  which  a  weight  is  raised,  is  an  inclined 
plane.  The  meaning  of  the  name  is  clear.  Did 
you  ever  see  a  man  chop  wood,  and  then  put  a 
wedge  like  this  (>)  in  the  split,  and  drive  it  in 
to  complete  the  separation  of  the  wood  ? 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS.  1 17 

Madge.  • — •  Is  that  a  machine  ? 

Teacher.  —  What  is  each  long  side  of  it  ? 

Ethel.  —  An  inclined  plane. 

Teacher. — The  wedge  is  a  machine,  then,- — a 
double  inclined  plane.  Will  it  split  the  wood 
across,  as  you  might  saw  it  ? 

Helen.  — You  have  to  drive  it  in  with  the  grain. 

Teacher.  — Just  as  the  axe  goes  in.  Now  what 
is  the  axe  ? 

Frank.  — That  is  a  machine. 

Teacher.  —  Is  there  any  inclined  plane  about  it  ? 

Teddy.  —  It  is  just  like  a  wedge. 

Teacher.  —  That  is  true  ;  it  is  a  wedge  with  a 
handle  for  the  man  to  use  in  applying  the  force  of 
his  muscle  to  drive  the  wedge  in.  What  is  the 
wedge  used  for  besides  splitting  ?  You  cannot 
tell.  Did  you  ever  see  men  raising  a  building  or 
a  ship  ? 

Maggie.  —  I  saw  them  launch  a  ship,  and  they 
hammered  in  under  it  to  lift  it.  Were  they  driv- 
ing wedges  ? 

Teacher.  —  Yes  ;  they  drive  great  wedges  in 
under  the  keel ;  if  they  drive  a  small  one  at  first, 
then  they  can  drive  in  a  larger  one  afterwards, 
and  so  raise  the  ship  quite  off  the  ways  to  launch 


Il8       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT1? 

it  into  the  water.  Sometimes  to  press  things 
very  tightly  wedges  are  used,  —  to  squeeze  seeds 
together  or  fruit,  to  get  the  oil  or  juice.  Wedges 
are  used  in  many  ways.  I  want  to  make  a  hole 
in  this  wood  ;  I  cannot  press  a  blunt  end  through 
it  immediately,  so  I  take  a  wedge  which  has  an 
inclined  plane  all  around  it,  —  this  pin,  or  a  nail, 
or  an  awl,  —  and  push  it  in  ;  the  resistance  of  the 
wood  is  overcome  gradually. 

Gertrude.  —  I  never  knew  that  a  pin  is  a  ma- 
chine. 

Teacher.  — What  is  a  knife  ?  Are  not  all  sharp, 
cutting  instruments  wedges  ?  Scissors  are  two 
wedges  pivoted  together.  See,  they  work  on  both 
sides  of  what  is  cut,  and  meet  in  the  middle. 
But  what  is  it  that  keeps  the  wedge  where  it  is 
driven  ?  It  might  slip  back,  by  the  pressure  on 
the  inclined  plane. 

Teddy.  —  It  gets  pinched  in. 

Teacher.  —  It  is  friction  which  holds  it  ;  the 
roughness  of  the  wedge  and  the  substance  which 
it  rests  in  act  upon  each  other  to  hold  it  still, 
until  some  stronger  force  of  driving  is  used  again. 
If  you  use  force  to  put  a  thing  in  motion,  when 
does  it  stop  ? 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  pnysics.  119 

Madge.  —  When  anything  stops  it. 

Teacher.  —  What  stops  a  ball  after  it  is  thrown  ? 

Teddy.  —  It  falls  down. 

Teacher.  —  The  earth  stops  it  by  gravitation, 
but  it  stops  it  gradually,  because  the  force  which 
started  the  ball  yields  gradually  to  the  force  of 
gravitation,  and  something  else.  If  you  should 
start  a  ball  rolling  on  a  plane,  why  does  it  stop  ? 
Will  it  stop  sooner  on  a  rough  surface  than  on  a 
smooth  one  ? 

All.  —  Oh,  yes. 

Maggie.  —  It  is  the  rubbing  on  the  surface  it 
rolls  on  which  stops  it. 

Teacher. — That  is  friction.  There  is  less  fric- 
tion the  smoother  the  surfaces,  but  there  is  some 
friction  however  smooth  the  surfaces  ;  and  all  the 
friction  is  not  in  those  surfaces,  but  a  part  of  it 
in  the  air.  That  is  what  stops  a  thing  moving 
through  the  air.  Even  it  it  were  not  for  gravi- 
tation, the  friction  of  passing  through  the  air 
would  stop  it.  So  you  see  friction  stops  a  mov- 
ing thing  and  holds  it  in  its  place  with  much 
power.  If  you  rub  things  together  very  quickly, 
the  friction  makes  heat  and  even  fire.  This  was 
the  way  in  which  people  used  to  make  a  blaze. 


120       HO W  SHALL  MY  CHILD  J5E    TAUGHT* 

If  a  body  moves  very  swiftly  through  the  air,  it 
will  at  last  take  fire. 

Teddy.  —  Rockets  will. 

Teacher.  —  Rockets  are  set  on  fire  before  they 
begin  to  move ;  but  meteors  or  shooting-stars  are 
great  bodies  of  metal  which  are  sent  spinning 
through  the  earth's  atmosphere  by  the  great  force 
of  gravitation,  and  they  move  so  far  and  so 
swiftly  that  they  take  fire  by  friction  with  the  air, 
and  burn  and  melt  as  they  whizz  by,  until  they 
fall  to  the  earth,  and  cool  to  look  like  a  great 
mass  of  iron-ore.  We  see  them  flashing  along 
the  sky  some  nights,  and  I  have  even  heard  them 
whizz.  Friction  has  to  be  taken  into  account,  in 
considering  the  effect  of  any  application  of  force. 
It  stops  and  it  holds.  It  makes  heat  and  flame 
and  electricity.  It  is  greater  in  proportion  to  the 
roughness  of  the  substances  it  affects.  I  was  in 
a  train  of  cars  once  when  they  had  to  stop  be- 
cause the  wheels  had  grown  so  hot. 

Prescott.  —  They  ought  to  have  oiled  them 
more,  and  then  it  would  not  have  happened. 

Teacher.  —  The  oil  would  have  made  the  sur- 
faces smoother,  so  that  the  friction  would  have 
been  much  less.  Do  you  know  how  very  much 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS.  121 

oil  is  used  to  make  surfaces  smooth  and  lessen 
friction  ? 

Carrie.  —  Machinery  has  to  be  oiled  very  often, 
to  go  smoothly.  I  saw  a  man  climbing  all  over 
the  great  engine  in  the  steamer,  with  an  oil-can. 

TeacJier.  —  Did  you  ever  rub  sealing-wax  on 
woollen  until  it  would  attract  other  things  toward 
it,  such  as  hair  or  feathers  ? 

Agnes.  —  I  saw  Louis  doing  it  one  day,  and  the 
sealing-wax  was  hot. 

Teacher.  —  That  is  because  the  friction  brought 
out  heat  and  electricity.  The  heat  and  electricity 
must  have  been  both  in  the  wax ;  the  friction 
brought  it  out.  Some  day  we  will  say  more  about 
this ;  but  now  we  are  thinking  about  friction  only 
as  a  means  to  stop  and  hold  ;  sometimes  of  use, 
and  sometimes  an  obstacle  to  be  overcome.  An 
obstacle  is  not  worth  minding  if  we  can  only 
bring  force  enough  to  overcome  it.  We  can 
soon  learn  to  turn  it  to  good  account.  Friction 
we  may  set  aside  for  the  present,  and  go  back  to 
our  machines.  You  may  all  cut  an  inclined  plane 
from  this  paper,  and  wind  it  around  your  slate 
pencil  from  the  wide  edge.  What  does  this  line 
twining  around  the  pencil  remind  you  of  ? 


HOtV  3HALL  MY  CtilLt)  BE   TAVGHT! 

Willie.  —  It  looks  like  a  screw. 

Teacher.  —  Here  is  a  real  screw.  Twist  it  into 
this  hole  in  the  wood.  The  inclined  plane  is 
turned  all  around  in  the  hole,  gradually  working 
its  way  wholly  within.  If  the  winding  edge  of 
the  plane  is  sharp,  it  cuts  its  way  in  like  a  revolv- 
ing wedge,  or  it  pushes  the  resisting  wood  up  its 
spiral  inclined  plane,  with  a  gradual  force,  easier 
to  apply  than  the  sudden  blow  upon  a  nail,  which 
is  only  a  straight  wedge.  Remember,  then,  the 
inclined  plane,  the  wedge,  and  the  screiv  are  vari- 
ous forms  of  the  same  thing,  and  used  in  every 
variety  of  machine  to  assist  man  in  the  application 
of  force  to  do  his  work.  This  force  or  poiver  may 
be  man's  muscle  or  the  muscular  power  of  some 
animal,  the  steam  of  an  engine,  water,  air,  elec- 
tricity, or  any  of  the  forces  of  the  earth  which 
man  has  learned  to  use.  The  machines  help  the 
natural  forces  to  do  more  work  and  with  greater 
ease  than  would  be  possible  without  them. 

III. 

Teacher.  —  Let  us  see  what  we  know  of  the 
forces  of  water,  and  how  they  may  be  used.  If 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS.  123 

I  put  water  in  this  cup,  and  now  punch  a  hole  in 
the  bottom,  what  happens  ? 

Holly.  — The  water  runs  out. 

Teacher.  —  Now  I  will  punch  a  hole  in  the  side. 

Prescott.  — The  water  runs  out  there,  too. 

Teacher.  —  Now  this  teapot  is  full  of  water,  but 
I  am  pouring  in  more  ? 

Lottie.  —  It  is  running  out  of  the  spout  and 
over  the  top. 

TeacJier.  —  And  the  spout  is  as  high  as  the  top, 
so  the  water  is  pushing  up  as  high  as  the  top. 
Which  way  does  water  push,  then  ? 

Lily.  —  It  pushes  every  way. 

Teacher.  —  If  I  put  this  book  in  the  empty 
pitcher,  does  it  change  the  shape  of  the  book  ? 

Madge.  —  No. 

Teacher.  —  Here  is  some  water  in  this  cup. 
What  shape  is  the  water  ? 

Teddy.  —  It  is  the  shape  of  the  cup. 

Teacher.  —  Suppose  it  were  in  a  square  box 
what  shape  would  it  be  ? 

Prescott.  —  Water  will  be  the  shape  of  what  it 
is  in,  of  course. 

Teacher.  —  Now,  if  I  put  the  water  that  is  in 
the  cup  into  the  pitcher,  will  it  change  its  shape  ? 


124       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 
AIL  —  It  will. 

Teacher.  —  The  water  spreads  itself  every  way, 
then,  and  changes  its  shape,  and  a  solid  thing 
does  not. 

Madge.  —  Why  does  it  ? 

Teacher. —  I  cannot  explain  it  more  than  to  say 
that  the  particles  of  a  solid  thing  hold  together 
more  strongly  than  they  push  apart,  but  the  par- 
ticles of  water  push  apart  as  easily  as  they  hold 
together.  And  how  is  it  with  air  ?  Does  that 
push  apart  more  easily  or  hold  more  firmly  to- 
gether than  water? 

Teddy.  —  It  pushes  apart  more  easily. 

Teacher.  —  Yes  ;  it  fills  everything,  no  matter 
what  its  shape  or  how  large.  Its  particles  sepa- 
rate as  far  as  they  can  from  each  other.  Now, 
as  to  water,  you  all  have  faucets  in  your  houses  ; 
where  does  the  water  that  runs  from  them  start  ? 

Prescott.  —  I  know  ;  from  the  Reservoir  ;  and  it 
is  pumped  there  from  a  pond  further  off.  It  runs 
through  pipes  in  the  streets  and  houses. 

Teacher.  —  Have  you  ever  known  whether  the 
Reservoir  is  built  up  high  or  dug  down  deep  ? 

Lily.  —  My  uncle  planned  it,  and  it  is  a  high 
building. 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS.  125 

Teacher.  —  It  has  to  be  high.  I  will  show  you 
with  this  bent  glass  tube.  I  dip  this  end  in  the 
water,  and  now  look  and  tell  me  how  high  it 
comes  up  in  the  other  side  of  the  tube. 

Holly.  —  Nearly  as  high  as  the  top  of  the  cup. 

Teacher.  —  Water  will  run  as  high  and  no 
higher  than  it  was  where  it  started.  Now,  some 
of  the  houses  in  town  are  up  on  a  hill,  and  high ; 
so  in  order  that  the  water  shall  run  into  their 
pipes,  it  must  start  as  high  as  they  are,  and  the 
Reservoir  was  built  as  high  as  that. 

Prescott.  —  At  Teddy's  they  have  a  tank  up  in 
the  attic ;  I  thought  that  was  so  that  the  water 
would  run  down  the  pipes. 

Teacher.  — That  was  put  there  before  the  water 
from  the  Acushnet  Reservoir  was  brought  in 
pipes,  and  it  was  arranged  to  be  filled  by  the 
spout  from  the  roof,  I  suppose.  Do  you  use  it 
now,  Teddy  ? 

Teddy. —  No  ;  only  to  sail  boats  in  it,  and  wade  in 
it.  Prescott  got  up  to  his  knees  in  it,  the  other  day. 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  I  remember  it  very  well.  He 
had  to  pull  his  boat  along  by  a  string,  as  he 
couldn't  use  the  force  of  the  water  to  push  it. 
How  do  you  get  your  boat  along  in  the  river  ? 


126       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE   TAUGHT* 

Madge.  —  We  row  it. 

Teacher,  —  What  force  of  the  water  do  you 
use ! 

Holly.  — The  oar  pushes  against  the  water,  and 
the  water  pushes  back  on  the  oar. 

Teacher. — Which  has  to  push  the  harder? 

Lily.  —  The  water. 

Prescott.  —  No  ;  the  oar. 

Madge.  — Why,  one  has  to  push  just  as  hard  as 
the  other. 

Teacher.  —  Right.  And  that  brings  the  boat  up 
to  the  oar  when  the  rower  leans  back.  Now,  all 
make  believe  row,  and  think  how  it  is.  See  :  you 
depend  on  the  pushing  or  resisting  force  of  the 
water  against  the  oar  and  the  force  of  the  man's 
arm  to  oppose  it.  Once  they  had  boats  with 
three  tiers  of  oars,  —  ships  with  a  large  number 
of  rowers. 

Holly.  —  I  know  it.  That  was  like  the  Grecian 
ships,  and  the  ships  of  Xerxes,  the  triremes. 

Teacher.  —  How  does  the  "  Martha's  Vineyard  " 
go? 

Lily.  —  It   goes   by  steam. 

Teacher.  —  The  steam  alone  wouldn't  make 
it  go. 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS.  127 

Prescott.  —  The  side-wheels  make  it  go. 

Madge.  — The  steam  turns  the  wheels. 

Teacher.  —  Who  has  observed  the  wheels  ? 

Ethel.  —  They  are  like  a  good  many  oars  mov- 
ing, when  the  wheel  turns  round. 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  you  must  notice  that  when  you 
go  off  in  her,  this  summer.  How  is  it  with  the 
propeller?  Who  knows?  What  does  the  steam 
do  to  make  it  go  ? 

Maggie.  —  It  turns  a  screw  of  four  great  curved 
scullers,  at  the  end  of  the  boat,  in  the  water,  and 
the  Nonquitt  boat  goes  in  the  same  way.  My 
father  showed  me  about  it,  as  we  came  up  to  town, 
one  day.  How  does  a  ship  go  ?  What  moves  it, 
Mrs.  Hopkins  ? 

Teacher.  —  You  know  what  the  sails  are  for. 
The  water  does  not  make  it  go,  it  only  retards  it  ; 
the  wind  must  push  harder  on  its  sails  than  the 
water  against  its  hull,  or  it  will  stand  still,  unless 
it  gets  into  a  current  of  moving  water,  when  it  will 
move  with  the  tide.  There  are  hundreds  of  ways 
in  which  the  pushing  force  of  water  is  used ; 
wheels  of  factories  are  turned,  and  all  sorts  of 
contrivances  and  inventions  are  used  to  make  the 
most  of  it,  to  get  all  the  advantages  possible  from 


128       HOW  SHALL   MY   CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

it.  But  here  is  something  else.  This  towel  has 
one  end  only  in  the  water ;  this  sponge  touches 
the  wet  table  only  on  its  under  side ;  does  all  the 
rest  of  it  remain  dry  ? 

Class.  —  Oh,  no ;  the  sponge  is  wet  all  over 
now,  and  the  towel  is  growing  wet. 

Teacher. — The  other  morning  I  found  the  floor 
near  my  sink  was  quite  wet,  and  then  I  discovered 
the  towel  thrown  over  with  one  end  in  the  basin 
where  there  was  some  water,  and  the  other  end 
dripping  over  the  edge  of  the  sink.  How  was  that  ? 

Teddy.  —  The  towel  and  the  sponge  suck  up 
the  water. 

Teacher.  —  The  water  climbs  by  little  threads, 
or  through  little  holes  or  tubes  ;  it  creeps  up  the 
sides,  and  fills  the  pores  of  the  sponge,  the  web  of 
the  cloth,  the  cells  of  the  plants  and  trees,  in 
which  the  sap  rises  and  oozes  through  the  thin 
membranes.  It  climbs  up  a  chain,  too,  in  the 
same  way  ;  sometimes  very  fast. 

Madge.  —  I  know  it  does  in  our  chain-pump.  I 
draw  the  chain  up,  and  soon  the  water  comes  so 
fast  that  it  comes  out  of  the  spout,  and  I  hold  my 
face  over  and  drink. 

Teacher.  —  Now,  you  can  often  get  this  climbing. 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS.  1 29 

force  of  the  water,  its  disposition  to  follow  a  fine 
thread  or  tube,  its  capillary  attraction  as  it  is 
called,  to  help  do  something  important.  Keep 
it  in  mind, — you  may  want  to  use  it.  If  you 
were  very  thirsty,  and  saw  a  deep  well  but  nothing 
to  draw  with,  could  you  contrive  some  way  to  get 
a  drink  ? 

Lily.  —  I  could.  I'd  tear  my  dress  up  and  make 
a  long  string,  and  suck  up  some  water  out  of  it 
when  one  end  was  down  in  the  well. 

Teacher.  —  Before  the  next  lesson,  I  want  you 
to  think  of  some  other  forces  of  water,  and  how 
they  are  used.  Perhaps  you  can  discover  or  invent 
something. 

Holly.  —  Do  you  believe  we  can  ? 

Teacher.  —  I  have  no  doubt  you  can,  if  you 
watch  and  think.  Most  likely  it  will  be  some- 
thing that  has  been  discovered  or  invented  by 
somebody  else,  but  that  is  no  matter.  It  is  just  as 
good  for  you  to  find  it  out  yourself,  as  if  no  one 
else  had  done  it. 

IV. 

Teacher.  —  If  you  wish  to  move  your  arm,  Holly, 
how  do  you  do  it  ? 


13°     HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Holly  —  I  make  myself. 

Maggie. — You  told  us  in  Physiology  that  the 
will  is  carried  from  the  brain  to  the  muscles  by 
the  nerves,  which  contract  the  muscles,  so  that  the 
arm  moves ;  it  goes  by  a  sort  of  telegraph,  so 
quickly  that  we  don't  know  any  more  than 
that  when  we  want  our  arms  to  move,  they 
move. 

Teacher.  —  You  have  learned  to  control  the  force 
there  is  in  your  arm ;  you  didn't  know  how,  when 
you  were  a  little  baby,  and  had  to  learn  by  trying. 
I  saw  a  child  as  large  as  you,  Holly,  that  hadn't 
learned,  because  his  mind  was  too  foolish,  and  he 
couldn't  manage  his  arms  or  legs  at  all ;  he  lay  on 
a  cushion  like  a  little  baby,  only  because  he  had 
not  the  sense  to  learn  to  use  the  force  of  his  own 
muscles.  Can  you  control  any  other  muscles  be- 
sides your  own,  Prescott  ?  If  you  have  a  load  to 
draw  which  is  too  heavy  for  you  to  pull,  what  can 
you  do  ? 

Prescott.  —  I  can  get  a  horse  to  pull  it. 

Edith.  —  Or  an  ox. 

Dolly.  —  Or  my  dog ;  he  carries  a  basket,  or 
draws  my  sled. 

Teacher,  —  Of  what  advantage  is  it  to  make  the 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS.  13! 

horse  and  the  wheel  do  it  ?  Could  not  a  man  use 
the  saw  and  cut  the  wood  with  the  force  of  his 
own  muscle  ? 

Dolly.  —  Yes  ;  but  the  horse  is  stronger,  and 
can  do  it  a  great  deal  faster  with  the  wheel.  I 
saw  a  horse  going  round  and  round  in  the  street, 
the  other  day,  and  winding  a  rope  about  an  axle 
so  as  to  pull  a  house  along. 

Carrie.  —  I  saw,  down  on  the  wharf,  a  horse  go- 
ing forward  and  back,  to  hoist  a  box  of  coal  and 
lower  the  empty  box. 

Teacher.  —  Did  you  ever  see  a  dog's  muscle 
used  to  do  work  ?  Dolly  uses  her  dog. 

Gertrude.  —  When  I  was  in  New  York  with 
mamma,  I  used  to  see  the  dog-carts  go  round  every 
morning  to  get  rubbish. 

Teacher.  —  Once  people  used  to  roast  meat  be- 
fore the  fire ;  they  had  to  keep  it  turning  all  the 
time.  It  was  tiresome  for  a  boy  or  woman,  so  they 
trained  dogs  to  be  turnspits. 

Maggie.  —  How  funny !  I  have  seen  a  bird 
trained  to  lift  its  food  into  the  cage  with  a  string, 
and  a  monkey  to  fire  a  gun. 

Lily.  —  In  the  cold  countries,  the  reindeer  draws 
the  sledge. 


I32      HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Sylvia.  —  In  South  America,  the  beautiful  little 
llamas  carry  the  loads  down  the  mountains. 

Holly.  —  In  the  hot  countries,  they  use  elephants 
to  carry  loads. 

Prescott.  —  In  the  desert,  camels. 

Teacher.  —  Can  man  control  all  these  ani- 
mals, and  make  them  do  his  work,  without 
trouble  ? 

Holly.  —  No'm  ;  they  have  to  be  trained. 

Prescott.  — They  have  hard  work  to  train  them, 
too,  and  they  have  to  tame  them  first. 

Teacher.  —  Do  you  think  man  will  ever  have  un- 
der his  control  all  animals,  —  the  wild  animals,  — - 
so  that  they  will  do  his  work  ? 

Maggie.  —  Perhaps  so.     Do  you  think  so  ? 

Teacher.  —  I  think  it  possible  in  the  future : 
for  man  is  made  as  the  head  and  king  of  all  the 
forces  of  the  earth,  to  control  and  subdue  them. 
He  has  to  learn  to  make  the  most  of  his  own 
forces  by  training  his  body  and  mind,  and  then 
he  can  add  to  this  power  of  his  own  the  power  of 
other  animals  which  he  tames  and  trains ;  because 
God  made  man  to  have  dominion  over  all  creatures 
of  the  earth,  to  do  his  bidding. 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS.  133 

V. 

Teacher.  —  Prescott,  see  how  the  gutters  run 
to-day ;  the  snow  is  thawing  fast.  Do  you  think 
of  any  work  you  can  make  that  swift  stream  do  ? 

Prescott.  —  I  see  it  push  a  good  deal  of  slush 
along  itself;  it  is' doing  its  own  work. 

Ethel.  —  Oh,  Mrs.  Hopkins,  don't  you  remem- 
ber all  that  you  read  to  us  out  of  the  Fairy  Land 
of  Science,  about  the  water  and  ice  and  snow  ? 
They  do  wonderful  things  that  men  cannot  do. 

Teacher.  -  -  That  is  true,  but  they  will  at  the 
same  time  stop  and  do  a  little  job  for  us.  If 
Holly  should  put  a  little  wheel  out  there,  would 
the  gutter  stream  turn  it  for  him  ? 

Holly.  —  I  guess  it  would.  I  should  stick  the 
wheel  up  in  lumps  of  snow  so  that  it  would  just 
dip  into  the  gutter,  and  the  stream  would  turn  it 
quick  enough. 

Teacher.  —  Suppose  it  didn't  turn  as  fast  as  you 
wanted  it  to  ? 

Prescott.  —  We  could  make  a  dam  and  a  water- 
fall, and  then  it  would  go  rushing. 

Teacher.  — -  A.  great  deal  of  work  is  done  in  this 
way,  by  using  the  force  of  running  or  falling 


134       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

water  to  turn  wheels.  I  have  seen  an  immense 
wheel  turned  by  water  falling  over  a  great  dam, 
built  in  the  Merrimac  River,  and  this  wheel  by 
belts  turned  a  great  many  wheels  and  spindles  in 
a  large  cotton  factory.  Ethel,  do  you  remember 
the  windmills  on  the  road  to  Nonquitt. 

Ethel.  —  Oh,  yes  ;  those  great  sails  are  turned 
by  the  wind  and  pump  the  water  up  to  the  top  of 
the  high  frame,  so  that  it  will  trickle  clown 
through  all  the  branches  laid  upon  the  frames 
below  and  leave  salt  upon  them.  Mamma  ex- 
plained it  to  me  one  day. 

Edith.  —  I  can  make  a  windmill  myself. 

Teacher.  —  So  you  can  ;  but  you  must  try  and 
see  if  you  can  make  it  do  any  work.  You  want  to 
use  the  force  of  the  wind.  What  a  tremendous 
force  it  has ;  and  the  force  of  the  air  as  you  push 
against  it  is  very  great  to  resist  you.  You  must 
think  how  you  can  use  its  power  to  resist,  as  well 
as  its  power  to  move.  Air  and  water  hold  great 
forces,  which  man  must  learn  to  control.  He 
must  first  find  out  how  they  will  act,  and  then 
how  to  use  them.  The  force  of  the  earth  drawing 
all  things  to  itself  is  another  force  we  can  use. 
Suppose  two  boys  are  throwing  snowballs.  One 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSICS.  135 

boy  stands  on  a  level  with  the  mark  he  aims  at, 
but  the  other  goes  up  on  a  high  place  and  throws 
them  down  ;  which  is  the  wiser  boy  ? 

Dolly.  —  The  boy  who  went  up  high,  for  it  is 
easier  to  throw  down. 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  that  boy  got  the  earth  to  help 
him.  It  is  the  force  of  gravitation.  A  man  by 
the  name  of  Isaac  Newton  first  watched  an  apple 
falling  from  a  tree  and  thought  about  it  until  he 
understood  that  the  earth  draws  all  things  toward 
itself.  This  explained  a  great  many  things,  and 
led  to  other  discoveries.  The  earth  has  many 
forces.  We  have  only  begun  to  find  them  out. 
They  are  waiting  like  restive  horses  in  their 
stalls  for  man  to  bring  out  and  use.  Perhaps  you 
can  discover  some  of  them.  All  is  done  by  ob- 
serving and  thinking,  watching,  trying  and  con- 
triving. 

The  brain  of  man  is  given  to  him  by  God  to  use 
that  he  may  be  the  master  of  the  earth,  that  he 
may  make  the  air,  the  earth  and  the  water,  and 
even  the  sun,  moon  and  stars,  work  for 


CHAPTER    XI. 

PRIMARY    CLASS    IN    PHYSIOLOGY. 
I. 

AFTER  an  exercise  in  calisthenics,  the  six 
youngest  pupils  remain  standing. 

Teacher.  —  What  nice  twisting  bodies  you  have, 
just  like  india-rubber  !  Is  that  what  you  are  made 
of? 

All  (laughing).  —  No  ;  we're  made  of  flesh. 
1  Teacher.  —  How  do  you  keep  up  straight,  then  ? 

Prescott.  —  We  have  bones. 

l^eacher.  —  Any  bones  like  this  (showing  a  fish- 
spine)  ? 

Holly.  —  No  ;  I  guess  not. 

Teacher.  —  When  you  undress  to-night,  feel  up 
and  down  your  back,  and  tell  what  you  feel.  You 
may  feel  of  each  other  now,  gently.  Madge,  what 
do  you  feel  on  Lily's  back  ? 

Madge. —  Knobs,  all  in  a  row. 

Lily. — So  do  I,  on  Madge's  back. 
136 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  137 

Holly.  —  It  goes  all  up  and  down  my  back. 

Teacher. — You  may  as  well  call  it  your  back- 
bone. It  is  something  like  this  of  a  fish. 

Prescott.  — What  makes  the  knobs  ? 

Teacher.  —  Look  at  this.     Is  it  one  bone  ? 

Lily.  —  No  ;  it  is  a  good  many  little  ones. 

Teacher. — You  can  count  the  knobs  on  your 
back  to-night.  You  should  find  twenty-five.  Each 
is  a  little  bone  with  points  sticking  out  around 
it,  and  a  hole  in  the  middle,  through  which  a  soft 
cord  runs.  So  your  backbone  is  really  twenty- 
four  small  bones,  like  beads  strung  on  a  string, 
and  each  has  hooks  with  which  it  holds  on  to  the 
other,  as  they  are  all  caught  together.  (Show  a 
vertebra.)  Now  all  bend  over,  and  then  back,  very 
far  and  fast,  back  and  forth,  back  and  forth.  Do 
you  hear  all  those  little  bones  rattle  or  crack  as 
they  move,  and  the  cord  strain  ? 

All.  —  No,  no  ;  they  don't  make  a  bit  of  noise. 

Teacher.  —  Isn't  that  funny  ?  One  would  think 
they  would  all  go  creak,  creak.  If  they  did,  what 
should  you  think  would  cure  it  ? 

Lottie.  —  I  should  think  they  would  be  oiled. 

Prescott.  —  I  should  put  something  soft  between 
them. 


138      HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Teddy.  —  How  is  it  fixed  ? 

Teacher.  —  Why,  God  thought  just  as  you  do, 
and  he  put  little  soft  cushions  between  them,  and 
little  bags  of  oil  to  squeeze  against  them,  so  that 
they  do  not  rub  and  grate  on  each  other. 

Girls.  —  How  good  !     (Boys  look  serious.) 

Teacher.  —  What  keeps  you  so  firm  and  round, 
Prescott  ?  See,  when  I  clasp  my  hands  on  your 
sides  and  about  your  chest,  I  can't  squeeze  it  in 
like  a  rubber  doll. 

Holly.  —  But  you  can  down  here. 

Madge.  —  There  are  bones  up  here,  and  not 
down  below. 

Teacher.  —  Now  feel  of  yourselves,  all  under 
your  arms  down  to  your  waist.  Do  you  feel  the 
bones  ? 

Lily.  —  I  feel  bars  going  in  a  ring  just  like 
hoops. 


Teacher.  —  Now  feel  in  front.  Do  you  feel  the 
bars  there  ? 

All.  —  No  ;  it  is  flat  and  hard. 

Teacher.  —  One  flat  bone  in  front,  and  hoops  on 
each  side.  I  brought  these  old  bones  to  show  you  ; 
they  are  the  bones  around  a  horse's  chest,  a  good 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  139 

deal  like  yours.  I  found  them  out  in  that  old  field 
by  Cedar  Street.  They  were  joined  to  a  back- 
bone, also,  at  these  ends.  These  bars  are  a  part'of 
the  little  bones  of  the  backbone,  reaching  around 
the  chest  to  this  flat  bone,  —  the  breastbone.  So 
your  chest  is  all  framed  in,  isn't  it,  Lily  ?  Here 
is  a  picture  of  it.  Some  of  these  bones  are  a  little 
soft  near  the  breastbone  :  and  in  you  the  breast- 
bone is  not  very  hard,  but  it  will  grow  harder. 
These  bones  that  hoop  around  are  called  ribs. 
The  other  day  Mr.  Bliss  fell  from  the  roof  of  a 
house,  and  broke  two  of  these  ribs.  He  has  to  be 
very  still  while  they  mend  themselves,  and  it  will 
hurt  him  a  good  deal.  If  more  of  them  had 
broken  it  might  have  killed  him,  for  the  parts  of 
the  body  within  the  chest  cannot  bear  to  be  hurt 
without  killing  us. 

Madge.  —Jennie  broke  a  bone  in  her  leg," the 
other  day,  and  the  doctor  tied  her  leg  up  in  pieces 
of  wood,  and  she  has  got  to  lie  in  bed  three  weeks. 

Teacher.  —  Feel  of  your  heads.  Squeeze  them. 
Are  they  hard  ? 

All.  —  Yes,  very  hard  ;  it  is  all  bone. 

Teacher.  —  The  bone  of  your  head  is  called  the 
skull.  It  is  pieced  together  in  little  jagged  seams 


14°     HOW  SHALL  MY   CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

in  these  places,  —  here,  and  here,  and  here.  It  is 
a  very  good  way  to  join  bones  together  so  that 
they  won't  come  apart,  and  so  that  if  you  hit  one 
part  it  won't  jar  the  other  parts  as  much.  The 
cushions  in  your  backbone  save  a  great  deal  of  jar, 
too.  Just  think  how  it  would  hurt  you  to  knock 
the  end  of  your  backbone,  if  that  and  the  skull 
were  one  solid  bone.  I  guess  it  would  make  your 
head  ache. 


II. 

Teacher.  —  You  all  examined  your  bodies  last 
night,  you  say,  to  find  out  what  bones  make  its 
frame-work.  Tell  me,  Prescott,  what  you  found 
out  about  your  chest.  See,  when  I  feel  of  Pres- 
cott about  here  [the  chest],  he  isn't  soft,  like  a 
rag-baby,  and  I  cannot  punch  him  like  a  rubber 
doll.  All  feel  of  your  chests. 

Prescott.  —  There  is  a  bone  in  front,  and  some 
hoops  around  here  under  my  arms. 

Teacher. — Just  like  this  [illustration  by  draw- 
ing a  model] ;  these  hoops  join  the  bone  in  front, 
the  breastbone,  and  the  backbone  behind.  See, 
are  they  separate  from  the  backbone  ? 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  H1 

Lily.  —  No,  they  are  parts  of  the  little  spine- 
bones. 

Teacher.  — They  are  the  arms  of  the  small  bones 
stretched  out  to  embrace  you,  and  give  you  a  place 
for  your  breath  to  come  and  go,  and  for  your  heart 
to  beat.  They  are  joined  to  the  breastbone  by 
little  pieces  of  gristle,  like  white  india-rubber. 
You  have  seen  it  in  meat.  Here  are  some  below, 
which  are  more  loosely  hung,  so  that  they  can 
spread  when  the  breath  is  very  full.  This  breast- 
bone may  be  partly  gristle  in  some  of  you ;  it  will 
grow  into  firm  bone  by  and  by.  The  breastbone, 
the  spine,  and  the  ribs  make  a  nice  room  for  some 
very  important  parts  of  your  body.  Take  a  good 
long  breath,  with  your  hands  each  side  of  your 
breastbone.  Do  you  feel  the  ribs  push  out? 

Madge.  —  Yes'm,  and  I  feel  something  push 
down  and  swell  out  in  front.  Is  that  a  bone? 

Teacher.  —  All  breathe  slowly,  a  strong,  full 
breath.  Do  you  feel  it  as  Madge  says  ?  Well, 
there  is  a  strong  wall  there  below  to  this  room, 
full  of  the  machinery  which  keeps  us  alive.  That 
wall  is  not  a  bone  ;  it  is  called  a  muscle.  It  is  a 
strong,  elastic  thing,  which  will  stretch  down  and 
out  as  you  need  to  have  it.  There  is  something 


I42       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

else  in  this  nicely  protected  room  besides  the 
breath  ;  feel  on  the  left  side  among  the  ribs  ;  what 
do  you  feel  ? 

Teddy.  —  I  feel  a  hammer.  I  guess  they're 
building  the  wall. 

Teacher.  —  Can  you  stop  the  hammer  ? 

All. — We  cannot ;  it  goes  right  along. 

Teacher.  —  It  is  your  heart  beating  ;  it  will 
never  stop  until  you  die.  It  goes  like  this  [imitat- 
ing the  contractions  with  the  hand],  and  drives 
the  blood  all  through  your  veins  ;  it  keeps  yeu 
alive,  and  makes  you  grow ;  it  is  like  a  hammer, 
building  the  walls ;  or  like  a  clock,  measuring  off 
the  seconds  of  your  life ;  or  like  a  drum,  beating 
to  call  you  to  do  what  you  have  to  do.  It  makes 
your  pulse  beat ;  put  your  finger  here  on  your 
wrist,  and  feel  the  little  hammer  there. 

Lottie.  —  That's  where  the  doctor  feels  my 
pulse. 

Teacher. — To  see  how  your  heart  is  beating,  or 
how  regularly  and  truly  all  the  machinery  is  going. 
There  is  something  else  not  in  the  chest  to  be 
taken  good  care  of  within  the  framework  of  bones 
about  it.  It  is  your  stomach,  which  takes  in  all 
you  eat,  and  changes  it  so  that  it  can  be  made  into 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  1 43 

blood.  The  breath  goes  in  and  out  of  the  wind- 
pipe and  the  lungs  ;  the  blood  goes  through  the 
heart,  and  the  food  into  the  stomach  :  and  all 
these  are  safely  packed,  surrounded  and  pro- 
tected by  spine,  breastbone,  and  ribs.  Now,  stand 
very  erect,  and  breathe  as  I  move  my  hand,  very 
strongly,  and  feel  your  ribs.  Shall  I  tell  you 
the  names  by  which  these  little  bones  and  the 
breastbone,  also  the  muscle  below  the  chest,  are 
called  ?  The  whole  backbone,  made  of  twenty- 
four  of  these  little  knobby  bones  which  link  to- 
gether, is  the  spine ;  each  little  bone  of  the  spine 
is  a  vertebra ;  the  breastbone  is  the  sternum  ;  the 
muscle  is  the  diaphragm.  To-morrow  we  will  see 
about  the  bones  of  the  arms  and  legs,  hands  and 
feet ;  and  about  the  joints,  or  how  the  bones  move 
upon  each  other. 

Ethel.  —  The  bones  you  show  us  are  very  dry 
and  rough.  Is  that  like  our  bones? 

Teacher.  —  No ;  they  are  old  and  dried  in  the 
sun  and  weather ;  all  the  oil  is  dried  out  of  them, 
and  they  are  brittle.  Your  bones  are  softer  and 
smoother,  and  more  elastic  ;  they  will  grow  harder 
and  more  dry  and  brittle  when  you  are  old.  What 
are  they  at  all  like  ? 


144       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Teddy.  —  Something  like  chalk. 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  and  they  are  like  chalk ;  they  aje 
made  of  lime  very  largely.  Have  you  any  oppor- 
tunity to  look  at  your  own  bones,  to  see  whether 
they  are  like  this  ? 

Ethel.  —  I  hope  not :  not  unless  we  cut  our 
flesh. 

Teacher.  —  Prescott  came  in  from  recess  yester- 
day, with  one  of  his  bones  in  his  hand. 

Prescott.  —  Oh,  my  old  tooth  !     I  threw  it  away. 

Madge.  —  Are  our  teeth  bones  ? 

Teacher.  —  Well,  what  do  you  think  ? 

All.  —  Oh,  yes,  they  are. 

Lily.  —  But  they  are  very  smooth. 

Teacher.  —  They  are  dressed  up  a  little  to  show, 
with  a  nice,  hard  polish  on  the  outside,  called  the 
enamel,  which  protects  the  bone. 


III. 

Teacher.  —  As  you  go  through  your  calisthenics 
I  cannot  help  thinking  how  easily  and  rapidly  you 
can  bend  your  arms,  your  wrists,  your  fingers,  your 
knees  and  ankles.  How  is  that,  Madge  ?  will  your 
bones  bend  anywhere  ? 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  145 

Madge.  —  No,  no ;  my  arms  will  bend  only  at 
the  elbows. 

Teacher.  —  How  do  you  whirl  your  arm  around 
like  a  wheel,  in  this  movement,  then  ? 

Madge.  —  Oh,  it  moves  at  the  shoulder,  too. 

Holly.  —  And  at  the  wrist  and  fingers,  in  two  or 
three  places. 

Teacher. — These  places  are  the  joints.  Now, 
all  try  your  shoulder-joints  ;  can  you  move  them 
up  or  down,  or  backward  and  forward  ? 

Prcscott.  —  I  can  move  them  up  and  down,  back 
and  forth,  and  round  and  round. 

Teacher. — The  joint  is  like  a  ball  in  a  cup,  in 
which  it  can  turn  almost  every  way.  The  end  of 
the  arm  bone  is  a  ball  of  bone  covered  with  the 
smooth,  elastic  skin  called  cartilage,  as  all  the 
joints  are,  and  the  shoulder  is  fitted  together  to 
form  a  cup,  in  which  the  ball  is  held  by  firm  elas- 
tic cords  so  that  it  will  not  slip  out,  but  can  turn 
in  any  direction.  How  convenient  it  is  to  swing 
the  arm  when  you  throw,  and  how  important  this 
free  movement  for  the  use  of  the  whole  arm  ! 

Holly.  —  What  are  these  bones  at  the  shoulder  ? 

Teacher.  —  There  is  a  large  three-sided  bone 
from  the  back,  called  the  shoulder-blade.  You  can 


146       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

see  it  plainly  as  you  push  back  the  arm  at  the 
shoulder.  There  is  a  bone  plainly  seen  also  on 
the  front  of  the  neck,  called  the  collar-bone.  These 
two  bones  join  at  the  shoulder,  and  their  united 
edges  form  the  cup.  The  collar-bone  is  fastened 
to  the  breastbone,  and  the  shoulder-blade  to  the 
backbone.  Can  you  all  feel  these  bones  plainly  ? 

AIL  —  Yes,  very  plainly. 

Teddy.  —  Stan  broke  his  collar-bone  one  day, 
and  it  mended  with  a  crack  in  it. 

Teacher.  —  It  ought  to  have  mended  better  than 
that.  Wasn't  it  well  fitted  together  ? 

Maggie.  —  Well,  Mrs.  H.,  he  tried  to  kick  foot- 
ball before  it  was  quite  well,  and  he  fell  down  and 
broke  it  again. 

Teacher.  —  He  ought  to  have  kept  still  until 
it  was  firmly  knit  together.  But  it  isn't  a  very 
severe  thing  to  break  the  collar-bone ;  not  at  all 
like  breaking  one  of  the  large  bones.  You  see 
how  small  it  is.  Now  all  see  how  many  ways  you 
can  move  the  elbow. 

Lottie.  —  Only  up  and  down. 

Teacher. — What  kind  of  a  joint  will  move  only 
one  way  ?  Try  the  door.  What  is  that  which 
makes  it  swing  back  and  forth  ? 


PRIMAKV  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  147 

Prescott — It  is  a  hinge.  Is  that  the  way  our 
elbows  are  made  ? 

Teacher.  —  Yes  ;  very  much.  The  elbow  and 
fingers  have  hinge-joints.  Make  them  all  go. 
You  know  we  have  to  oil  hinges  occasionally,  so 
our  joints  are  constantly  oiled  from  little  bags 
near  them,  which'  squeeze  out  oil  when  the  joint 
works.  What  other  joint  in  your  body  is  a  hinge- 
joint  ? 

Carrie.  —  My  knee,  I  think. 

Teacher.  —  Does  your  knee  feel  like  your  elbow  ? 

Madge.  —  No ;  my  knee  is  flat  and  my  elbow 
pointed. 

Teacher.  — The  joint  of  the  knee  is  covered  by 
a  little  flat  bone  to  protect  it ;  the  bone  is  the 
knee-pan.  You  can  make  it  knock  against  the 
point  by  striking  it,  and  it  sounds  like  money. 
Try  it. 

Prescott.  —  I  can  make  you  think  I  have  money 
in  my  hand. 

Teacher.  —  So  the  knee  is  a  hinge-joint.  How 
many  ways  do  you  find  it  to  work  ? 

Teddy.  —  It  goes  up  and  down. 

Teacher.  —  Now  try  your  toes.  Can  you  move 
them  like  fingers  ? 


I48       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   Bl?  TAUGHT? 

Ethel.  —  Only  a  little ;  but  when  my  foot  is 
bare  I  can  do  it  pretty  well. 

Carrie.  —  Baby  moves  hers  all  round  and  sticks 
them  all  apart. 

Teacher.  —  I  heard  of  a  man  who  could  sew  and 
knit  with  his  toes,  and  of  one  who  could  play  on 
the  piano  with  his. 

Madge.  —  Why  could  he  ? 

Teacher.  —  He  had  practised  it  a  good  deal,  be- 
cause he  had  no  arms.  If  we  practised  moving 
our  toes  we  could  do  much  more  with  them  than 
we  think.  Any  joint  or  other  part  of  the  body 
will  work  more  freely  by  exercising  it.  Whatever 
we  try  to  make  the  body  do,  it  will  come  to  do 
in  time  ;  it  will  obey  our  will  if  we  train  it.  Now 
try  your  wrists  and  ankles.  Move  them  every 
way  you  can. 

Agnes.  —  Why,  they  will  go  any  way  you  try. 

Teacher.  —  They  are  quite  different  from  the 
other  joints.  Take  off  your  round  gold  beads, 
Gertrude,  and  they  will  roll  on  each  other  any 
way :  I  put  them  in  two  rows  and  see  how  they 
may  turn  about.  The  wrist  and  ankle  have  two 
rows  of  little  bones,  four  in  a  row,  upon  which  the 
hand  turns ;  the  movement  is  easier  and  more 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  149 

varied  than  the  ball  and  cup  joints.  When  Louie 
plays  on  the  piano  see  how  many  ways  and  how 
quickly  she  can  throw,  turn,  or  twist  the  hand. 
It  is  the  smooth  rows  of  little  bones  that  do  it. 
It  is  much  worse  to  break  the  wrist  or  ankle  than 
the  collar-bone,  and  takes  a  long  time  to  heal  the 
break  and  make  the  joint  strong  again. 

Maggie. — Yes  ;  it  is  a  year  since  mamma  broke 
her  ankle,  and  it  isn't  strong  yet. 

Teacher.  —  Be  very  careful  of  the  ankle  and 
wrist  —  and  of  the  knee,  too.  When  these  joints 
are  hurt,  some  trouble  is  apt  to  occur,  because 
they  are  harder  to  reach  than  some  of  the  other 
joints.  The  socket  at  the  hip  is  formed  by  the 
meeting  of  two  strong  large  bones  which  support 
the  body.  Your  backbone  is  like  many  hinge- 
joints  ;  your  shoulders  and  hips  are  ball  and 
socket  joints ;  your  elbows  and  knees,  as  well  as 
the  joints  of  your  fingers  and  toes,  are  hinge- 
joints,  and  your  wrists  and  ankles  are  rolling 
joints.  Now  can  you  all  repeat  this  ? 

All  repeat  it  correctly,  and  then  all  the  class 
are  allowed  to  try  moving  as  many  of  their  joints 
at  once  and  as  rapidly  as  they  can,  which  ends  the 
lesson. 


15°       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 


IV. 

THE  class  should  be  allowed  to  see  a  manikin 
during  the  study  of  the  bones,  and  be  led  to  ob- 
serve all  the  bones  and  joints  carefully. 

Teacher. — We  have  learned  what  the  frame- 
work of  the  body  is,  and  how  its  different  parts  are 
joined  together  for  our  convenience.  Do  you 
think  it  like  any  other  skeleton  ? 

Teddy.  —  It  is  made  something  like  a  monkey's. 

Prescott.  —  It  is  like  animals,  a  good  deal. 

Teacher.  —  So  it  is,  but  it  stands  upright,  and 
has  two  arms  instead  of  two  fore-legs.  Neverthe- 
less, it  is  on  the  same  plan  as  that  of  all  four- 
footed  animals ;  you  can  easily  see  the  likeness 
and  the  difference.  The  long  chain  of  bones  in 
the  back,  the  spine,  is  the  same,  and  gives  a  name 
to  all  animals  that  have  it ;  they,  with  man,  are 
called  the  vertebrates,  from  the  name  of  each  little 
bone  of  the  spine,  vertebra.  (Let  the  class  name 
a  variety  of  vertebrates.)  Is  this  framework  of 
bones  inside  or  outside  of  us  ? 

All.  —  Inside. 

Teacher.  —  Are  you  not  glad  that  it  is  clothed, 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.        i$i 

and  made  beautiful  with  flesh  and  skin  ?  What  is 
the  flesh  ? 

Madge.  —  It  is  the  part  that  has  blood  in  it. 

Prescott.  —  It  is  the  part  we  eat  in  animals,  — 
the  meat. 

Teddy.  —  It  is  the  thick  part  around  the  bones. 

Teacher.  —  You  are  all  right.  At  recess  I  will 
take  you  over  to  the  meat-market,  and  show  you 
how  it  is  wound  about  the  bones  and  lies  close  to 
them,  with  a  thin  skin  around  it  which  twists  into 
strong  cords  at  the  ends,  and  fastens  the  flesh 
tightly  at  the  joints.  What  are  the  cords  and  the 
flesh  for,  do  you  think  ? 

Lottie.  —  To  cover  the  bones. 

Teacher.  —  Did  you  ever  take  a  chicken-leg  from 
the  kitchen,  and  pull  the  end  of  a  tough  white 
cord,  showing  just  where  the  joint  was  cut  ? 

Ethel.  — I  have,  and  it  pulled  up  the  claws,  and 
acted  just  like  walking. 

Teacher.  —  The  cords  at  the  ends  of  the  muscles 
do  the  same  thing ;  they  move  all  your  joints,  pull 
the  bones  this  way  or  that,  as  you  wish.  The 
muscle,  —  that  is,  the  flesh  which  is  wrapped  about 
the  bones,  —  is  shortened,  and  brings  up  the  cords 
to  pull  the  bones;  I  cannot  fully  understand  it, 


IS2       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE   TAUGHT? 

but  when  you  wish  your  arm  to  come  this  way, 
your  muscle  knows  it,  and  shortens  to  pull  up  the 
arm  ;  it  is  as  if  your  mind  up  here  in  the  brain 
sent  a  telegraphic  despatch  to  the  muscle  to  pull 
up  the  arm,  and  it  did  so.  God  understands  it, 
who  made  it.  There  are  little  fine  threads  going 
from  the  spinal  cord  which  joins  the  brain,  and 
these  threads  are  like  the  telegraphic  wires ;  they 
carry  the  message  of  the  thought  and  will,  and  are 
called  nerves. 

Agnes.  —  I  never  heard  of  anything  so  nice  as 
that! 

Teacher.  —  You  didn't  know  you  had  a  thousand 
telegraphic  wires  in  you ;  but  these  little  nerves 
go  to  every  spot  in  your  body ;  if  you  prick  any 
part  with  the  finest  needle,  the  message  goes  by 
the  little  fine  nerve  that  reaches  that  spot,  all  the 
way  to  the  spinal  cord  and  to  the  brain,  to  tell 
your  thought  where  it  is,  and  you  can  tell  at  once, 
without  having  seen,  where  it  is.  Suppose  it  were 
not  so,  how  often  we  might  be  hurt  without  know- 
ing how  or  where,  and  perhaps  we  might  even  be 
killed  without  a  chance  to  prevent  the  fatal  effect 
of  some  little  wound. 

Willie.  —  I  felt  something  hurting  my  hand,  the 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  153 

other  day,  and  looked,  and  found  a  piece  of  a 
needle  almost  hid  in  the  flesh  by  my  thumb,  and 
my  father  got  some  pincers  and  pulled  it  out. 

TeacJier. —  These  little  nerves  tell  the  muscle 
what  to  do,  and  then  the  muscle  shortens  or 
lengthens  and  does  it.  All  draw  your  arm  up  and 
forward  from  the  elbow  ;  shut  your  hand  tight,  and 
feel  of  the  muscle.  Can  you  feel  it  ? 

Madge.  —  Papa  laughs  at  my  muscle  ;  his  is  just 
as  hard  as  iron  when  he  does  this,  and  bunches 
right  out. 

Prescott.  —  I  can  show  my  muscle  ;  it  is  hard, 
too. 

Teacher.  —  See  how  firm  your  muscle  is  on  the 
lower  part  of  the  leg,  the  calf  of  your  leg.  That 
is  large  arid  strong,  because  you  use  it  so  much, 
jumping,  running,  skating,  and  walking.  The 
muscles  grow  round  and  firm  by  using.  They 
are  all  over  you.  Did  you  see  the  men  at  the 
circus,  who  leaped  so  well  and  performed  on  horse- 
back ?  Their  muscles  were  all  well  developed,  and 
looked  as  they  ought  to  look,  and  made  the  whole 
body  very  handsome  and  graceful,  and  agile  and 
strong.  You  must  exercise  all  the  muscles,  to 
make  your  body  grow  as  it  was  meant  to  grow. 


*54       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

There  are  great  bands  of  flesh  or  muscle  across 
the  chest,  and  they  ought  to  be  strong  and  make 
the  chest  round,  the  body  erect,  and  bring  the 
shoulders  back.  Stand  up  as  you  think  you  ought 
to  look.  Now  take  a  good,  long  breath.  If  your 
chest-muscles  are  strong,  you  can  breathe  better ; 
and  you  remember  I  told  you  about  a  strong  mus- 
cle which  separates  the  chest  from  the  lower  part 
of  the  body;  that  is  the  diaphragm,  —  and  when 
you  breathe  it  swells  out  and  draws  in,  and  moves 
up  and  down.  Do  you  feel  it  ? 

AIL  —  I  feel  it. 

Teacher.  —  When  you  use  the  muscles,  the 
blood  rushes  quicker  into  the  little  veins,  the 
blood-vessels,  which  are  just  like  a  fine  net-work 
all  over  the  body  and  through  all  the  muscles. 
The  blood  keeps  the  muscles  warm  and  alive,  for 
it  carries  something  to  them  to  build  them  all  the 
time,  as  they  waste  from  using,  and  it  carries  back 
the  wasted  parts,  which  would  decay  and  corrupt 
the  body  otherwise,  and  that  is  just  what  happens 
when  a  creature  dies  —  the  flesh  decays  ;  you  all 
know  this.  We  will  go  and  see  the  flesh  at 
recess,  and  I  will  show  you  how  it  lies  about  the 
bones  and  is  tied  to  the  joints,  and  you  can  think 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  I $5 

that  it  is  very  much  the  same  as  your  flesh,  which 
is  so  much  of  your  body  and  does  so  much  of  your 
work. 

V. 

Teacher.  —  Madge,  we  went  over  the  rope-works, 
yesterday,  to  see'  the  machinery.  What  room  did 
you  think  contained  the  most  important  part  of 
it  all  ? 

Madge.  —  The  room  where  the  engine  was,  for 
that  keeps  it  all  going. 

Teacher.  —  True ;  and  if  the  engine  is  taken 
good  care  of,  and  kept  going  just  right,  every 
wheel  will  do  its  work  and  all  will  go  on  as  it 
should  ;  but  if  the  engineer  neglects  his  duty,  or 
has  not  the  skill  to  manage  the  engine,  some  bad 
accident  or  disorder  might  result.  How  nice  the 
engine  was  !  and  the  room  was  quite  clean,  and 
the  men  there  were  busy  and  attending  to  their 
work.  Now,  all  put  your  hands  on  your  heads. 
Your  head  is  your  engine-room ;  in  it  is  the 
engine  —  the  brain.  How  solid  the  walls  of  the 
room  are !  Where  are  the  doors,  and  windows, 
and  the  belts  which  go  to  turn  all  the  wheels,  and 
keep  your  whole  body-factory  at  work  ? 


156        HO W  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Esther.  —  The  eyes  are  the  windows. 

Prescott.  —  So  are  the  ears. 

Teacher.  —  Through  the^  eye  and  the  ear  come 
to  the  brain  the  light  and  sound  of  what  is  outside 
the  body ;  through  the  nostrils  and  tongue,  the 
smell  and  taste ;  through  the  skin,  the  feeling. 
All  these  are  called  the  "  senses."  (Enlarge  upon 
these  ad  libitum^)  But  how  does  the  brain  com* 
municate  with  the  rest  of  the  body  ?  How  does  it 
get  news  of  any  hurt  or  any  good  to  the  rest  of  its 
body,  or  send  any  message  to  other  parts  of  the 
body,  such  as  a  message  to  the  arm  to  move,  or  to 
the  feet  to  walk  ? 

Lottie.  —  You  told  us  there  were  a  thousand 
telegraphs  to  carry  messages  back  and  forth  all 
over  the  body. 

Teacher.  --  Yes,  these  are  the  nerves.  The 
brain  and  the  spinal  cord,  and  the  nerves  are  all 
one,  like  a  root  and  stem  and  branches.  All 
together  they  make  up  the  nervous  system.  I 
went  into  a  Surgical  Museum  once,  and  in  a  glass 
case  I  saw  an  exact  representation  of  the  nervous 
system  of  a  man  by  itself,  separated  from  all  other 
parts  of  the  body,  as  if  it  had  been  drawn  out  and 
hung  on  a  hook  by  the  brain  ;  down  from  the  base 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.         157 

of  the  brain  behind  hung  the  spinal  cord,  and  from 
it  hung  the  principal  nerves  of  the  arms  and  legs, 
with  all  the  hundreds  of  little  thread-nerves  run- 
ning from  every  part  of  it.  It  was  a  curious  look- 
ing thing. 

Teddy.  —  What  color  was  it  ? 

TeacJier.  —  If  you  could  look  inside  your  skull, 
your  engine-room,  you  would  find  it  packed  quite 
close  with  soft  gray  coils  and  bunches.  This  gray 
mass  is  the  brain  ;  it  pushes  its  substance  down 
through  all  those  little  holes  in  the  spine,  —  the 
middle  of  the  vertebrae,  you  remember, — and 
sends  out  threads  all  over  the  body  from  between 
these  little  bones.  The  brain  is  the  tool  of  the 
mind. 

Ethel.  —  I  thought  the  brain  is  the  mind. 

Teacher.  —  When  your  body  dies,  the  brain  will 
die,  too.  You  could  see  a  dead  brain,  of  no  more 
use;  but  the  mind  is  still  alive,  and  I  am  sure 
must  have  a  better  tool  or  machine  than  the  brain, 
although  that  is  better  and  nicer  than  any  made 
by  man.  Does  this  machine  or  engine  ever  get 
out  of  order  ? 

Maggie.  —  When  a  man  is  crazy,  is  it  out  of 
order  ? 


15$       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Teacher.  —  Yes,  and  do  you  not  think  that  is 
almost  the  worst  thing  that  could  happen  to  us, 
that  our  mind  should  be  out  of  order,  as  we  say, 
when  the  mind  cannot  control  the  brain? 

Mabel.  —  Oh,  yes ;  for  then  we  might  kill  our- 
selves or  somebody  else. 

Teacher.  —  Sometimes  the  brain  is  hurt,  or  sick, 
and  that  is  often  fatal,  —  always  very  hard  to  cure. 
If  a  man  falls  and  cracks  his  skull  and  knocks  a 
piece  of  it  against  the  brain,  or  wounds  or  in- 
flames the  brain  ;  or  if  he  uses  or  excites  the  brain 
too  much,  so  that  it  becomes  too  tired,  it  is  a  very 
serious  matter,  and  very  hard  to  cure ;  but  if  it 
is  the  connection  between  the  mind  and  the  brain 
that  is  affected,  then  it  is  called  insanity,  and  the 
man  is  like  a  workman  in  a  factory  whose  engine 
is  all  out  of  order,  and  nothing  can  be  relied 
upon ;  his  machinery  may  kill  him,  and  everything 
may  go  contrary  to  the  rule.  Should  you  be 
careful  of  this  engine  ? 

Prescott.  —  Very  ;  but  how  ? 

Teaclier.  —  Do  what  keeps  the  whole  body 
healthful ;  the  brain  is  a  part  of  the  body ;  also  let 
the  brain  rest  when  it  is  tired.  Let  it  work  well 
and  regularly  when  it  works,  and  go  to  sleep  when 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  159 

it  is  tired.  When  it  is  too  tired  to  work,  sleep 
comes  like  a  night-watchman  and  -shuts  up  the 
doors  and  windows,  and  the  engine  stands  still 
The  mind  lets  it  alone  and  it  gets  rested.  You 
saw  the  rope-works'  engine  resting,  and  a  man  was 
oiling  it  and  polishing  it  and  getting  it  all  in  good 
order  for  work.  That  is  what  sleep  does  for  the 
brain. 

Gertrude.  —  How  does  the  brain  work  ? 

Teacher.  —  I  don't  know  that  I  can  tell  you. 
There  is,  probably,  some  movement  of  a  particular 
part  of  it  for  every  kind  of  work.  Now,  try  to 
remember  something.  A  certain  part  of  the  brain 
moves  now,  and  you  remember.  Now  try  to 
understand  something  hard ;  another  part  of  your 
brain  works,  and  you  understand.  The  action  of 
any  part  of  the  brain  strengthens  that  part,  just 
as  I  explained  that  the  exercise  of  a  muscle 
strengthens  that  muscle.  Make  your  mind  do 
what  is  hard  for  it  to  do,  and  it  will  do  that  easier 
the  next  time ;  so  you  improve  different  parts  of 
the  brain  and  cause  it  to  grow.  You  can  even 
change  the  shape  of  your  head  by  a  habit  of  exer- 
cise for  some  part  of  the  brain  not  well  developed 
or  strong.  If  you  haven't  much  decision,  form  a 


HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

habit  of  deciding  questions  certainly  and  posi- 
tively, and  your  head  will  gradually  gfow  higher 
here. 

Carrie.  —  Oh,  how  funny  !  can  I  make  my  head 
different  ? 

Teacher.  —  I  do  not  promise  that,  but  people 
who  study  much  about  it  say  that  the  mind  uses 
different  parts  of  the  brain  for  different  kinds  of 
work,  and  shapes  the  brain  and  skull  so  as  to  show 
what  parts  are  most  developed,  and  what  kinds  of 
work  the  brain  can  do  best,  and  I  am  sure  as  exer- 
cise trains  the  muscles,  so  it  does  the  brain. 
Your  mind  will  become  weak  if  you  do  not  use  it, 
just  as  your  muscles  would.  The  will  is  the  con- 
trolling force  of  the  body,  and  the  mind  is  the 
power  that  uses  the  will.  The  mind  ought  to 
govern  and  use  the  brain  perfectly,  and  that  is 
what  I  am  trying  to  train  your  minds  to  do.  The 
mind  can  control  not  only  the  brain,  but  the 
whole  body,  much  more  than  you  think,  and  keep 
it  well  and  make  it  work  well. 


NOTE  TO  TEACHERS.  —  This  subject  can  be  developed  much 
more  fully,  even  to  youngest  pupils,  and  interests  them  ver) 
much.  The  organs  of  sense  each  form  a  lesson  or  more,  and  the 
distinction  between  the  mind  and  the  brain  can  be  further  dwelt 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  l6l 

upon,  as  they  all  understand  how  the  brain  may  have  an  impres- 
sion of  sight  or  hearing,  while  the  mind  is  too  much  occupied  to 
attend  to  it ;  as  a  child  absorbed  in  reading  does  not  hear  what  is 
said,  although  the  ear  must  still  carry  the  sound  to  the  brain. 
They  will  then  know  that  the  mind  is  quite  distinct  from  the 
brain,  and  the  soul  can  live  without  this  body. 


VI. 

THE     SENSES. 

Teacher.  —  I  told  you  about  the  brain,  which  I 
called  the  engine.  Everything  in  the  body  has  to 
be  connected  in  some  way  with  the  brain ;  all 
knowledge  of  the  outside  world,  all  means  of 
reaching  outside  things,  of  doing  or  learning,  must 
come  in  different  ways  to  it.  What  ways  do  you 
think  of,  Sallie,  by  which  you  can  learn  about  this 
flower  ? 

Sallie.  —  I  can  see  it. 

Teddy.  —  I  can  smell  it. 

Teacher.  —  How  do  you  learn  of  the  cricket, 
which  we  do  not  see,  but  which  you  know  is  near  ? 

Prescott.  —  I  hear  it  chirp. 

Teacher.  —  And  if  I  tell  you  to  shut  your  eyes 
and  open  your  mouth,  and  put  this  into  it,  what 
is  it  ? 


1 62       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

Amy. —  It  is  a  grape.     I  taste  it. 

Teacher.  —  Once  a  little  girl  had  the  scarlet 
fever,  and  it  destroyed  her  sight,  hearing,  smell, 
and  taste,  and  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  never 
have  any  way  of  knowing  or  doing  or  enjoying 
anything.  Her  body  seemed  like  a  close-shut 
prison  for  her  mind.  But  there  was  one  way  left 
open,  and  a  good,  wise  man  took  that  way,  and 
through  it  taught  her  as  much  as  many  a  person 
learns  through  every  sense  of  a  perfect  body. 
She  is  highly  educated  now,  and  has  lived  a  happy 
and  useful  life.  What  was  that  one  way  left  to 
her  to  find  out  about  outside  things  ? 

Teddy.  —  She  could  feel  of  things. 
.  Teacher.  —  Now  name  all  these  ways  from  the 
brain  to  the  outside  world. 

All.  —  To  see,  to  hear,  to  smell,  to  taste,  to 
touch. 

Teacher.  —  These  activities  are  called  the  senses, 
from  a  word  meaning  to  feel,  because  every  act 
of  the  senses  is  a  touch  of  the  organ  of  sense 
upon  what  is  brought  to  it.  The  eye  is  touched 
by  waves  of  light,  the  ear  by  waves  of  sound, 
the  nostril  by  perfume,  the  tongue  by  flavor,  the 
skin  by  what  is  in  contact  with  it.  All  these 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  163 

parts  feel,  and  the  brain  takes  knowledge  of  what 
is  felt.  Name  the  organs  of  sense. 

All.  -  -  The  eye,  the  ear,  the  nose,  the  tongue, 
the  skin. 

Teacher.  —  The  fingers  have  a  very  delicate  and 
wise  sense  of  touch,  although  the  whole  surface  of 
the  body  can  observe  in  the  same  way.  In  using 
these  senses  we  ought  to  take  pleasure,  as  it  is 
intended  that  every  healthy  action  of  the  body 
should  give  more  or  less  pleasure ;  but  we  must 
never  take  more  enjoyment  in  the  mere  action  of 
the  senses  than  in  the  purpose  for  which  they  act. 
You  should  not  eat  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  taste 
when  you  do  not  need  food.  You  should  never 
use  an  organ  of  sense  until  it  is  weary,  or  until 
you  cannot  at  once  stop  using  it  when  it  has 
done  your  work.  You  must  control  your  senses  ; 
be  their  master,  and  not  their  slave.  It  is  a  sad 
thing  when  even  a  child  cannot  control  his  senses. 
He  cannot  be  trusted  to  take  care  of  himself.  A 
man  who  is  the  slave  of  his  senses  is  a  brute,  bad 
and  degraded  in  character.  The  senses  must 
always  obey  the  reason  and  conscience. 

Ethel.  —  Where  is  your  conscience  ? 

Teacher,  —  That   is  a  part  of    the    soul.      We 


164      HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

cannot  place  it.  It  tells  us  what  we  ought  to  do 
or  ought  not  to  do.  If  we  obey  it,  it  will  be 
faithful,  and  grow  more  and  more  clear  and  de- 
cided ;  if  not,  it  becomes  uncertain.  It  is  the 
sense  of  the  soul,  as  reason  is  the  sense  of  the 
mind.  The  senses  of  all  grow  more  delicate  as 
we  use  them  and  do  not  abuse  them.  We  must 
take  good  care  of  the  organs  of  sense.  The  eye, 
for  example,  is  so  delicate  and  easily  hurt :  what 
protection  has  it  ? 

Esther.  —  The  eyebrows  hang  over  it,  just  like 
a  porch. 

Gertrude.  —  I  have  often  thought  the  eyelids 
are  like  fringed  curtains  to  cover  it.  They  open 
and  close  so  quickly,  before  you  can  think  of  it. 

Teacher.  —  You  have  a  little  fountain  of  salt 
water  to  wash  it  with.  We  will  take  the  eye  for 
another  lesson. 

VII. 

THE    EYE. 

Teacher.  —  Each  of  you  look  at  your  neighbor's 
eye  steadily.  Is  the  eye  flat  or  rounded  ?  It  is 
rounded.  Yes,  it  is  a  ball.  You  may  have  seen 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  1 65 

a  fish's  eye :  it  is  smooth,  hard,  and  slippery. 
Do  you  see  a  little  mirror  in  the  middle,  with 
your  own  face  reflected  in  it  ?  You  do.  That 
mirror  is  a  little,  convex,  transparent  surface,  like 
glass,  over  the  open  end  of  a  tube  that  leads  into 
a  dark  chamber,  where  any  impression  of  your 
face  is  spread  upon  the  walls  as  it  is  upon  the 
photographer's  plate,  and  that  picture  is  carried 
by  a  nerve  to  the  brain,  which  perceives  it  and 
sees  your  face.  So  it  is  with  all  that  is  before 
the  eye.  That  black  hole  is  called  the////?/,  the 
glass-like  surface  over  it  the  cornea.  Do  you  see 
the  blue,  or  gray,  or  brown  circle  outside  the  pupil  ? 
That  is  the  iris.  It  shows  little  muscles  to  draw 
the  edges  closer  together  and  make  the  pupil 
larger  when  it  grows  darker  so  as  to  give  room 
for  more  light  to  go  into  that  dark  chamber  and 
make  the  picture  clearer  on  the  walls.  What  else 
do  you  see,  Alice  ? 

Sallie.  —  I  see  the  pupil  grow  smaller  and  the 
blue  part  grow  wider. 

Teacher.  —  There  are  some  other  circular  mus- 
cles which  draw  the  iris  up  over  the  pupil  like 
strings  in  a  bag,  when  the  light  is  too  strong. 
Roll  your  eyes  around.  Can  you? 


1 66      HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

All,  —  Oh,  yes !  every  way. 

Teacher. — There  are  muscles  and  cords  hold- 
ing the  round  eyeball  in  its  socket,  which  can  act 
like  the  cords  and  muscles  in  any  part  of  the 
body  and  turn  the  eye  as  we  will.  Did  you  ever 
see  a  person  cross-eyed,  or  with  eyes  turned  too 
much  toward  the  nose  ?  Something  was  wrong 
with  some  of  the  muscles,  in  that  case.  If  you 
use  your  eyes  too  much,  you  may  hurt  these 
muscles  ;  if  you  hold  your  book  too  near,  you  will 
hurt  the  eyeball,  making  it  grow  convex.  If  you 
keep  glancing  too  rapidly  from  a  distant  to  a 
near  object,  you  will  tire  and  weaken  one  of  these 
muscles  and  grow  more  and  more  near-sighted. 
Always  heed  the  caution  of  those  who  have  had 
experience  in  troubles  of  the  eyes,  for  it  is  such  a 
terrible  thing  to  have  the  eyes  hurt  or  impaired 
by  abuse.  Hold  your  head  up  naturally  as  you 
sit  erect,  and  read  with  the  book  at  just  that 
distance  where  you  read  easily.  Do  not  read  or 
look  with  one  eye  "only,  but  with  two,  as  is  de- 
signed for  you.  Bathe  the  eyes  with  fresh,  cold 
water ;  open  them  in  water  every  day ;  rest  them 
when  they  feel  tired.  If  you  are  at  all  near- 
sighted, practise  looking  at  distant  objects.  Do 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  l6/ 

you  see  the  little  blood-vessels  roll  over  the  eye- 
ball ? 

All.  —  We  do. 

Teacher. — Don't  touch  the  eyeball.  See  how 
hard  the  eyelid  tries  to  prevent  you.  It  is  not 
meant  to  be  touched.  Never  try  to  read  or  work 
by  too  dim  a  light,  nor  to  look  directly  at  a  very 
bright  light.  Why  do  you  have  two  eyes  ? 

Prescott.  —  To  see  all  round  a  thing. 

Teacher.  —  If  you  look  with  one  eye,  a  thing 
looks  more  flat ;  with  two  eyes  we  see  it  from  two 
different  points  at  once.  Look  at  this  stereo- 
graph, —  two  pictures  of  one  thing,  —  are  they 
exactly  alike  ? 

Lottie.  —  This  one  has  more  of.  the  house  on 
this  side  of  the  picture. 

Teacher.  —  Do  you  all  see  that  there  is  a  very 
little  more  of  one  side  in  one  picture,  and  of  the 
other  side  in  the  other  picture  ?  That  is  the 
difference  between  the  thing  we  see  with  our 
two  eyes.  Try  experiments,  first  with  one  eye 
and  then  with  the  other.  You  find  you  do  see 
things  a  little  more  or  less  on  one  side,  with 
either  eye.  So  we  get  a  truer  view  of  the  whole 
thing  with  both  eyes  at  once.  The  nerve  which 


1 68      HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

carries  the  picture  to  the  brain  is  the  optic  nerve ; 
it  has  a  branch  to  each  eye.  There  are  two  little 
transparent  lenses  for  the  rays  of  light  to  pass 
through  before  the  impression  reaches  the  optic 
nerve.  You  must  learn  more  about  light,  and 
how  it  waves,  before  you  can  understand  fully 
how  the  image  which  passes  into  the  pupil 
through  the  convex  lens  over  it,  the  cornea, 
reaches  this  nerve. 


VIII. 

THE   SENSE   OF    HEARING. 

Teacher.  —  The  ear  is  a  strange-looking  part  of 
the  head,  somewhat  like  a  little  trumpet  attached 
to  the  side  of  the  head. 

Carrie.  —  It  looks  like  a  shell. 

Teddy.  —  Does  the  opening  go  way  into  the 
head  ? 

Teacher.  —  No  ;  you  would  find  something  very 
soon  which  would  stop  the  way ;  it  would  look 
like  a  little  round  white  membrane,  as  it  is,  like 
the  parchment  of  a  drum  stretched  over  the  open- 
ing ;  it  is  delicate  and  thin,  about  so  wide ;  it 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  169 

quivers  or  vibrates  when  sound  strikes  it,  just  like 
any  stretched  surface ;  it  vibrates  with  the  sound- 
waves of  air,  and  that  vibration  is  carried  through 
it  to  four  little  bones  which  are  in  an  open 
chamber  behind  it ;  they  carry  it  on  through  a 
spiral  passage  very  much  like  the  windings  of  a 
snail-shell,  until  it  reaches  the  nerves,  which  carry 
it  to  the  brain  ;  when  the  brain  receives  the 
impression,  or  knows  of  the  vibration,  sound  is  the 
result.  Why  do  you  think  the  external  ear  is 
shaped  so  curiously  ? 

Ethel.  —  To  get  all  the  sound  it  can. 

Teacher.  --  The  vibrations  of  the  air,  which  are 
waves  of  sound,  are  gathered  up  in  the  expanse  of 
the  outward  ear  and  transmitted  gradually  through 
quite  a  tube  without  sudden  shock  to  the  delicate 
drum  of  the  ear.  This  drum  is  so  delicate  as  to 
repeat  the  vibrations  very  truly  to  the  queer  little 
bones  which  touch  each  other  behind  it,  and  the 
vibrations  are  carefully  carried  on,  winding  gently 
to  the  connections  with  the  nerve  which  perceives 
it  for  the  brain.  Very  nice  care  has  been  taken 
that  we  may  hear.  If  you  should  see  the  whole 
machinery  of  the  ear,  you  would  wonder  at  the 
wise  contrivance. 


17°       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Fanny.  —  Why  cannot  Alice  hear  as  well  as  we  ? 
Her  ear  is  just  as  good. 

Teacher.  —  Alice  had  scarlet  fever  once,  which 
destroyed  the  drum  of  the  ear,  as  it  often  does, 
breaking  it  down  by  some  very  poisonous  matter 
which  was  near  it  and  which  had  no  other  way  of 
escaping  from  her  blood.  It  pierced  this  delicate 
little  drum,  and  wore  it  away  entirely  in  one  ear, 
and  nearly  all  in  the  other ;  yet  the  little  bones 
are  left,  and  the  vibrations  of  the  air  reach  them 
through  the  bones  of  the  face  and  head  where  it 
touches  them.  Alice  can  hear  a  little  when  she 
opens  her  mouth. 

Alice. —  I  know  I  can  ;  or  if  the  piano  is  play- 
ing, I  can  hear  better  leaning  upon  it.  Why  ? 

Teacher.  —  The  vibrations  are  carried  through 
the  mouth  and  by  the  teeth  or  by  the  arm  to  the 
bones  of  the  face,  or  through  tubes  leading  from 
the  throat  into  the  chamber  of  the  ear  where  the 
four  little  bones  are.  The  outer  ear  is  a  protec- 
tion to  all  the  nicer  and  interior  parts  of  the  organ 
of  hearing.  A  waxy  substance  surrounds  the  tube 
of  the  outer  ear  to  keep  out  anything  which  might 
otherwise  touch  the  drum.  We  should  never  put 
anything  hard  or  sharp  beyond  this,  for  fear  of 


PRIMARY  CLASS   IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  I/1 

piercing  the  drum.  Some  sound-waves  are  so 
strong  that  they  are  perceived  also  by  other  parts 
of  the  body,  as  for  instance  the  firing  of  a  cannon 
or  heavy  thunder,  making  the  whole  air  shake  ; 
but  the  ear  is  especially  arranged,  —  made  exactly 
so  as  to  gather  and  carry  the  delicate  vibrations  of 
usual  sound,  which  we  could  not  otherwise  know. 
Now  let  us  attend  to  the  sense  of  smell.  What  is 
its  organ  ? 

Answer.  —  The  nose. 

Teacher.  —  There  is  something  which  we  call 
perfume ;  it  would  be  hard  to  say  what  it 
is ;  sometimes  it  is  agreeable  to  us,  and  some- 
times not.  We  cannot  tell  why,  but  it  is  very 
decided. 

Hattie.  —  How  queer  it  is !  I  am  trying  to 
think  what  perfume  can  be,  but  I  am  not  able 
to  explain  it. 

Teacher.  —  Now  suppose  a  little  flower,  tuber- 
ose or  heliotrope,  is  here.  Why,  it  sends  its 
perfume  into  every  spot  of  the  air  in  the  room 
instantly.  You  perceive  it  at  once  and  every- 
where, and  will  as  long  as  the  flower  lasts  in  the 
room.  If  I  took  the  flower  out  of  the  room, 
should  I  take  the  perfume  out  too  ? 


I72     HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT* 

Maggie,  —  No,  you  would  leave  what  was 
already  in  the  room  still  there. 

Teacher.  —  Would  it  give  less  perfume  in 
another  room,  then. 

Daisy.  —  No'm ;  just  as  much  until  it  is 
withered. 

Teacher.  —  Isn't  it  very  strange  ?  Something 
escapes  from  the  flower  as  long  as  it  lasts  ;  with- 
out taking  time  to  travel,  without  making  the 
space  of  the  room  any  less,  it  fills  every  part  of 
it,  telling  us  of  the  character  of  the  flower. 
One  little  drop  of  attar  of  roses  will  send  its  odor 
through  a  bottle  as  tightly  sealed  as  we  can  seal 
it,  and  pervade  everything  it  reaches  with  such 
a  strong  scent  that  it  seems  almost  impossible 
to  destroy  it.  What  a  wonderful  quality !  It 
reaches  our  brain  through  little  nerves  spread  out 
upon  the  inside  of  the  nostril,  and  we  have  the 
sense  of  smell.  The  sense  of  taste  is  almost  as 
curious,  but  as  it  requires  contact  of  the  organ  of 
taste,  the  tongue,  with  the  substance  which  is 
tasted,  it  does  not  seem  quite  so  impossible 
to  understand.  Look  at  each  other's  tongues. 
Look  through  this  magnifying  glass.  How  won- 
derful!  A  little  forest!  The  surface  of  the 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  173 

tongue  is  covered  with  little  feelers  which  almost 
seem  alive,  and  the  flavor  of  what  we  taste  comes 
to  these  so  as  to  be  conducted  by  the  nerves 
which  run  from  its  surface  to  the  brain.  Thus 
we  taste.  The  senses  of  taste  and  smell  may  both 
be  injured  or  deadened  by  illness,  or  by  abuse. 
They  are  intended  to  guide  us  in  our  choice  of 
food  and  other  things  used  by  the  body.  They 
will  guide  us  if  they  are  in  a  healthy  state,  but  we 
must  not  excite  them  too  much,  or  train  them  to 
wrong  uses.  Can  other  animals  use  any  of  these 
senses  better  than  we  ? 

Willie.  —  Dogs  can  smell  better.  They  can 
follow  a  man  by  his  scent. 

Prescott.  —  Setters  can  scent  game,  and  show 
the  hunters  where  to  look. 

Teacher. — Animals  may  have  some  senses  we 
do  not  understand.  These  of  which  we  speak  are 
the  human  senses.  Feeling  is  the  perception  by 
contact  with  any  part  of  the  body,  for  the  nerves 
of  touch  come  to  the  surface  everywhere,  but 
chiefly  in  the  fingers,  which  can  be  made  very 
keenly  sensitive  by  practice,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
blind. 


SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 


VITAL    ORGANS. — THE    HEART. 

Teacher.  —  I  have  told  you  somewhat  of  all 
parts  of  the  body  except  those  which  are  kept  in 
the  two  chambers  within  its  outer  frame.  Put 
your  hands  upon  your  left  sides,  gently  pressing. 
What  do  you  feel  ? 

Teddy. — I  feel  the  little  hammer  that  pounds 
all  the  time. 

Teaclier.  —  Do  you  have  to  keep  that  hammer 
sounding  or  beating  by  your  own  thought  or  will  ? 

Blanche.  —  No  ;  it  goes  itself. 

Teacher. — Here  is  the  heart  of  a  calf.  Let 
me  show  you  how  it  is  made ;  for  yours,  which  is 
what  you  feel  beating,  is  inu^h  like  it.  It  has 
these  two  sides,  one  which  fresh,  red  blood  goes 
through,  and  one  which  the  impure,  dark  blood, 
returning  from  its  course  through  the  body,  fills. 
The  heart  is  like  a  pump  ;  it  forces  good  blood, 
which  has  been  purified,  through  numberless 
tubes,  called  arteries,  to  all  parts  of  the  body,  to 
build  it  and  feed  it ;  then  it  receives  that  blood 
which  has  become  impure,  back  through  as  many 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  1 75 

tubes,  called  veins,  and  sends  it  into  another 
organ  to  meet  the  air,  which  changes  it  to  pure 
blood  again,  after  which  the  heart  again  receives 
the  blood  and  forces  it  once  more  through  the 
arteries ;  and  so  this  goes  on  as  long  as  we  live, 
the  heart  forcing  the  blood  through  arteries  and 
veins  by  this  action  we  call  "  beating,"  like  the 
motion  of  a  hand  squeezing  and  opening  with 
great  force  and  regularity.  There  are  little 
doors  in  the  heart  which  open  and  close  as 
the  blood  rushes  through,  and  assist  in  keeping 
its  direction  the  same.  There  are  little  doors, 
called  valves,  in  the  calf's  heart.  They  are  so 
nicely  arranged  that  the  blood  cannot  go  the 
wrong  way.  They  open  and  shut,  open  and  shut, 
with  every  squeeze  of  the  heart.  You  would 
wonder  to  see  the  force  with  which  the  heart 
sends  this  current  of  blood  through  the  body. 
The  blood  flies  swiftly  around,  leaving  fresh  life 
and  substance  for  every  muscle  and  nerve,  and 
taking  away  the  waste  particles  that  need  to 
escape  into  the  air.  If  you  should  cut  an  artery, 
the  blood  would  spout  out  like  a  fountain,  and  if 
it  were  not  checked  very  soon  you  might  bleed  to 
death.  This  heart  is  necessary  to  life.  It  is 


HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

placed  in  great  safety  within  the  chest.  It  has 
strong  muscles  to  contract  and  dilate  with  un- 
ceasing regularity  and  great  forcing  power.  If  it 
is  injured,  death  will  result.  The  flowing  of  the 
blood  through  the  heart,  arteries,  and  veins  is 
called  its  circulation. 


THE   LUNGS. 

Teacher.  —  The  organ  into  which  the  blood 
comes  to  meet  the  air  and  be  purified  by  throwing 
off  its  waste  particles,  is  a  double  organ,  called 
the  lungs.  It  is  within  the  chest,  like  the  heart ; 
it  is  the  organ  of  breathing.  Do  you  have  to 
breathe  ? 

Daisy.  —  I  can  wait  a  moment  without  breath- 
ing, but  then  I  have  to  breathe  again. 

Teacher.  —  The  action  of  the  lungs,  as  well  as 
the  heart,  is  involuntary.  You  do  not  need  to 
think  of  it  or  will  it.  It  goes  on  regularly  as 
long  as  we  live.  It  is  necessary  to  life,  and  the 
lungs  are  therefore  a  vital  organ.  I  must  also 
show  you  the  lungs  of  the  calf,  and  you  will 
understand,  better  than  I  can  describe  it,  how 
your  own  lungs  look  and  act.  Here  are  the  two, 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY. 

like  red  sponges,  attached  to  tubes  which  are 
branches  to  this  larger  tube  called  the  windpipe, 
since  through  it  the  air  comes  and  goes  into  the 
mouth  and  nostrils.  These  two  lungs  will  swell 
when  the  air  fills  all  these  little  holes  or  cells. 
Now  take  a  good,  full  breath.  Do  you  feel  the 
lungs  swell  within  the  chest  as  a  sponge  swells  in 
the  water  ? 

Dolly.  —  I  do  ;  and  they  push  down  and  for- 
ward and  make  me  grow  large. 

Courtenaye.  —  I  feel  the  cool  air  coming  into 
my  mouth  and  nostrils  when  I  do  it. 

Teacher.  —  The  blood  comes  into  a  thousand 
little  veins  which  line  these  air-cells  of  the  lungs, 
and  all  that  is  bad  in  it  escapes  into  the  air  in  the 
cells,  and  it  receives  the  life-giving  part  of  the  air, 
which  makes  it  fresh  and  pure  to  go  back  again 
through  the  heart  to  the  body.  When  the  blood, 
thus  cleansed,  leaves  the  lungs,  the  air  which  has 
cleansed  it  returns  through  the  tubes  and  wind- 
pipe, through  the  nostrils  and  mouth,  to  the  out- 
side  air ;  this  breathing  in  and  breathing  out  is 
repeated  with  every  movement  of  the  heart  and 
lungs  as  long  as  we  live.  Thus  the  blood  is  kept 
pure,  and  the  body  renewed  and  alive.  But  you 


I78       HOW  SHALL    MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

can  see  at  once  that  the  air  about  us  is  hurt  by  the 
escape  of  this  waste  from  the  lungs ;  we  must 
have  fresh,  pure  air  about  us  all  the  time,  or  the 
blood  will  not  be  purified  enough  by  breathing. 
Some  air  is  more  life-giving  than  other.  You  feel 
brighter  and  stronger  in  it.  Out-of-door  air  is  the 
best.  If  you  wish  to  keep  well  and  be  strong,  you 
must  breath  fresh,  clear  air.  It  will  make  the 
blood  red  and  give  you  rosy  cheeks.  You  must 
hold  yourself  erect  and  wear  nothing  tight,  so  that 
the  lungs  and  heart  can  act  freely  and  work  well. 
But  do  not  run  when  you  breathe  too  fast  or  when 
your  heart  beats  too  hard.  Never  overwork  the 
heart  and  lungs  by  too  violent  or  too  long  contin- 
ued exercise,  like  jumping  rope  too  long,  or  run- 
ning when  you  are  out  of  breath. 


THE    DIGESTIVE    ORGANS. 

Teacher.  —  There  is  another  organ  which  is 
necessary  to  life,  below  this  upper  cavity,  which 
is  also  protected  by  the  spine,  ribs,  and  breast- 
bone, and  by  the  strong  elastic  muscle  we  call 
the  diaphragm.  It  is  the  stomach.  Here  is  the 
stomach  of  a  pig ;  very  much  like  yours.  It 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  1 79 

is  a  kind  of  bag.  This  tube  which  comes  into  it 
from  above  is  the  gullet  and  opens  from  the  back 
of  the  mouth.  The  stomach  is  the  place  where 
the  food  is  made  fit  to  be  changed  into  blood. 
You  can  tell  me  a  good  deal  about  the  food  you 
eat,  as  it  is  made  ready  to  enter  the  stomach. 
Grace,  if  you  are  hungry,  that  is  when  your  stom- 
ach calls  for  food,  what  do  you  do  with  the  food 
you  have  put  before  you  ? 

Grace.  —  I  put  it  into  my  mouth ;  then  I 
chew  it. 

Teacher.  —  When  you  chew  it,  what  wets 
it? 

Grace.  —  Some  water  comes  in  my  mouth. 

Teacher.  --  There  are  three  little  sacs  opening 
into  the  mouth,  under  the  tongue  and  within  each 
cheek,  that  squeeze  a  juice  called  saliva  into  the 
food  to  make  it  soft.  As  you  think  of  it,  the  juice 
starts  from  these  sacs  called  glands,  and  you  say 
your  "  mouth  waters." 

Prescott.  —  My  mouth  waters  for  an  orange. 

Teacher.  —  Elsie,  what  cuts  up  the  food  in  your 
mouth  ? 

Elsie.  —  My  sharp  teeth  chop  it  all  up 
fine. 


I  SO       I10W  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

Teacher.  —  How  do  you  stir  it  about  for  your 
teeth  to  chew  ? 

EditJi.  —  My  tongue  rolls  it  around. 

Teacher.  —  After  it  is  all  fine  and  moist  you 
swallow  it.  A  little  trap-door  opens  to  let  it  go 
into  the  gullet,  and  it  is  pushed  along  through  the 
gullet  by  these  little  ridges  partly  opening  and 
shutting,  until  it  reaches  this  door  opening  into 
the  stomach.  When  it  is  safe  within,  it  will  stay 
there  if  it  is  good  and  well  prepared,  but  if  it  is 
only  partly  chewed,  or  will  hurt  you,  after  a  little 
while  the  stomach  throws  open  its  upper  door 
again  and  sends  it  up  the  gullet  and  out  of  the 
mouth  in  a  hurry.  This  makes  us  feel  sick,  and  is 
very  unpleasant ;  but  it  is  better  than  to  keep  it  in 
the  body.  You  must  be  careful,  then,  what  you 
eat,  and  how  you  eat.  You  will  be  told  what  will 
hurt  you,  what  you  must  not  eat ;  and  you  must 
not  eat  too  fast  and  swallow  great  bits  without 
thorough  chewing  with  your  sharp  teeth.  Do  you 
like  to  eat,  Teddy  ? 

Teddy.  —  Yes,  when  I  am  hungry,  or  have 
something  very  nice. 

Teacher.  —  How  stupid  it  would  be  to  eat  if  we 
did  not  enjoy  it !  We  should  forget  or  neglect  it, 


PRIMARY  CLASS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  l8l 

and  our  bodies  would  have  nothing  to  make  blood 
of ;  but  our  sense  of  taste  makes  it  pleasant. 

Now  the  good  food  stays  in  the  stomach  two  or 
three  hours  and  is  stirred  about  by  the  movement 
of  the  muscles  of  the  stomach,  and  mixed  with  a 
juice  that  comes  from  the  lining  of  the  stomach, 
called  the  gastric  juice.  After  this  it  is  soft  and 
gray,  and  ready  to  go  through  the  lower  door  of 
the  stomach  into  another  part  of  the  food-organs, 
the  bowels,  which  are  also  below  the  diaphragm  and 
in  the  same  cavity  of  the  body,  called  the  abdomen. 
In  this  cavity,  which  is  less  protected  than  the 
chest,  are  the  stomach,  bowels,  liver,  pancreas,  and 
some  other  organs  not  belonging  to  the  change  of 
the  food  into  blood.  While  the  food  is  in  the 
bowels,  juices  from  the  liver  and  from  the  pancreas 
mix  with  it.  A  greenish  yellow  juice,  called  bile, 
comes  from  the  liver,  and  the  food  is  changed, 
while  it  is  passing  through  the  long,  coiled  tube  of 
the  bowels,  into  something  thin  and  white  which 
is  drawn  from  the  bowels  through  little  tubes  into 
a  larger  tube  which  empties  it  into  the  heart  to  be 
mixed  with  the  blood. 

This  is  the  way  by  which  your  lunch  which  you 
may  now  eat  is  changed  into  blood  that  can 


1 82       HO IV  SHALL  MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

become  a  part  of  your  body,  and  all  these  organs 
which  work  upon  it  are  called  the  digestive  organs. 
Breathe  good  air,  sleep,  rest,  exercise,  and  eat 
well,  and  you  will  be  well,  and  happy,  and  useful, 
and,  I  think,  good. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  PRIMARY  TEACHER  :  HER  WORK  AND  HER 
FITNESS  FOR  IT. 

I. 

IT  is  a  good  omen  for  the  future  that  the  ques- 
tion —  Who  shall  teach  the  little  children  ?  —  is  at 
last  thrown  into  prominence.  If  its  importance  is 
beginning  to  be  appreciated  by  thoughtful  educa- 
tors, we  may  feel  that  the  axe  is  laid  at  the  root  of 
the  tree,  and  that  the  evils  of  its  neglect  will  be 
finally  eradicated. 

It  is  well  understood  by  those  who  have 
watched  the  development  of  human  life  that  the 
first  ten  years  do  more  toward  shaping  individual 
character  and  destiny  than  any  subsequent  dec- 
ade ;  that,  as  a  rule,  the  proclivities  and  desires, 
the  tastes  and  aims,  the  habits  of  thought  and 
feeling,  are  pretty  clearly  indicated,  and  the 
course  of  after  life  determined,  by  the  environment 
and  training  up  to  that  period.  If  a  generation  of 
girls  and  boys  could  be  put  during  that  time  under 

183 


1 84       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

the  highest  moral  influences,  the  most  intelligent 
methods  of  intellectual  culture,  and  the  refine- 
ments of  pure  social  intercourse,  one  might  vouch 
for  the  nobility  of  the  next  generation  of  men  and 
women,  and  the  safety  of  society. 

How  much  has  the  question  of  the  quality  of 
the  primary-school  teacher  to  do  with  this  proposi- 
tion ?  It  is  certain  that  heredity  is  a  strong  and 
uncontrollable  element  in  the  problem,  home  life 
is  its  sequel,  and  not  tangibly  within  our  grasp ; 
but  for  the  greater  part  of  the  growing  and  wak- 
ing hours  of  the  children's  lives  they  are  directly 
in  the  hands  of  the  public-school  teachers.  What 
a  profound  responsibility,  therefore,  connects  itself 
with  the  work  of  these  teachers,  —  the  welfare  of 
the  next  generation,  the  destiny  of  a  race ! 

Strangely  enough,  the  importance  of  the  influ- 
ences surrounding  early  childhood  is  scarcely  felt, 
even  by  mothers.  Too  many  of  the  children  of 
wealthy  and  cultured  homes  are  left  to  the  over- 
sight and  companionship  of  incompetent,  per- 
haps vulgar,  persons.  Thoughtless  women  thus 
despise  the  privilege  of  motherhood.  The 
great  mother-heart  of  Frobel  has  shown  in  his 
"  Mother-songs  "  a  glimpse  of  the  education  the 


THE   PRIMARY   TEACHER.  185 

babes  may  receive  in  their  mothers'  loving  arms, 
and  which  the  mothers  may  receive  in  prodigal 
return  from  the  little  ministering  angels  who  cling 
to  them  in  that  faith  in  the  mother  which  Nature 
gives.  The  finest  thing  the  mother  can  bring 
from  her  heart  or  brain  is  dignified  by  being  given 
to  her  child,  and  not  learned  in  vain  if  learned  for 
him. 

See,  then,  the  breadth  and  depth  and  height  of 
the  work  of  the  Primary  Teacher !  It  is  to  form 
character,  brain,  and  social  life,  not  for  one  child 
alone,  —  that,  indeed,  were  a  task  of  infinite  value, 
—  but  for  scores  of  children  who  rest  in  her  hands 
like  the  plastic  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  sculptor. 
What  a  fine  and  strong  ideal  must  she  be  capable 
of  forming ;  what  clear  discrimination  must  she  be 
able  to  exercise,  that  she  may  conform  that  ideal 
to  individual  possibilities,  and  the  indications  of 
nature  in  each  hidden  germ  of  personality !  What 
untiring  zeal  and  enthusiasm  does  she  need  for 
rescuing  God's  purpose  from  failure  in  the  many 
lives  so  put  within  her  developing  hand  !  Indeed, 
the  opportunity  of  the  primary-school  teacher  is  a 
great  and  heavenly  one,  and  dignifies  the  noblest 
life  of  womanhood. 


1 86      HO IV  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT* 

II. 

THE  work  of  the  primary-school  teacher  is, 
then,  of  the  highest  importance  to  the  progress  of 
a  generation.  It  covers  the  most  impressible 
period  of  life ;  it  demands  the  most  earnest  enthu- 
siasm, the  clearest  wisdom,  and  the  most  varied 
experience  in  one  who  undertakes  it ;  in  particular, 
it  requires  intense  sympathy  with  children  in  their 
tastes,  in  their  outlook  and  ways  of  thinking,  as 
well  as  in  the  singleness  of  their  moral  nature ;  it 
requires,  moreover,  a  capacity  of  childlikeness 
which  is  the  attribute  only  of  harmonious  maturity 
or  of  genius.  It  is  the  unspeakable  gift  to  become 
as  little  children. 

The  primary  school  is  the  open  channel  for 
every  form  of  mental  activity  on  the  part  of  the 
teacher,  and  the  most  varied  knowledge  and  cul- 
ture. It  will  be  strange  if  the  most  accomplished 
woman  does  not  strike  her  plummet  to  ground 
more  than  once  a  day  in  teaching  a  school  of  little 
children.  "I  don't  know"  has  to  be  said  very 
often  to  the  wide-eyed  questioners.  How  perfect 
must  be  the  understanding  of  that  subject  which 
we  can  perfectly  simplify  and  into  which  we  can 


THE  PRIMARY  TEACHER.  I 7 

lead  the  child  so  that  he  will  know  the  way  again  ! 
He  is  the  complete  master  of  an  art  who  can 
make  it  appear  easy  and  natural. 

The  primary  teacher  must  possess  a  crystalliz- 
ing power  which  results  in  organization  and  dis- 
cipline till  the  assemblage  of  children  is  trans- 
formed into  the  school,  and  the  parts  become 
members  of  a  whole.  She  is  set  among  them  as  a 
magnet  is  laid  on  a  paper  of  steel-filings ;  they 
must  obey  insensibly  the  current  of  her  polariza- 
tion. Through  what  subtle  sympathy,  tact,  and 
insight  must  this  controlling  power  be  exercised  i 
It  is  the  organic  force  which  gives  life ;  the 
teacher  must  be  the  spirit  of  the  school,  producing 
order  and  unity  and  growth.  The  essential  germ 
of  school-life  is  the  controlling  sympathy  of  the 
spirit  with  the  body,  of  the  teacher  with  the 
pupils  ;  her  presence  must  be  an  inspiration,  her 
influence  a  deep  and  strong  centric  force  acting 
through  the  warmth  of  love,  and  dying  in  the  chill 
of  disaffection  and  weariness. 

Let  the  primary  teacher,  then,  seek  constant 
inspiration  for  herself ;  in  the  zest  of  fresh  learn- 
ing, in  the  draught  of  thought  from  all  its  foun- 
tains, in  the  cheery  influences  of  nature  and  social 


1 88      HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

life ;  above  all,  in  the  comfort,  rest,  and  illumina- 
tion of  the  ever-present  source  of  inspiration 
which  is  the  atmosphere  of  all  spirits  strong  to 
love  and  to  guide. 


III. 

HAVING  considered  the  dignity  and  general 
scope  of  the  work  of  the  primary  teacher,  let  us 
inquire  what  are  some  of  its  details,  and  the 
demands  it  makes  upon  her  mental  gifts  and 
moral  calibre. 

I  suppose  a  young  lady  of  that  elevation  of 
character  and  enthusiasm  of  moral  purpose  which 
seems  essential  to  the  conduct  of  such  a  noble 
work  as  we  have  indicated,  to  be  placed  before  a 
promiscuous  gathering  of  fifty  or  sixty  children 
out  of  the  public  schools.  The  first  demand  is  for 
immediate  organization.  Whatever  else  is  post- 
poned, the  task  of  reducing  this  babbling  crowd  to 
order  cannot  be  delayed.  Nothing  can  be  done 
until  all  are  seated  ;  then  a  quiet,  orderly  atten- 
tion must  be  compelled,  and  perfect  acquiescence 
in  the  authority  of  the  teacher.  It  may  be 
thought  that  this  is  an  easy  matter,  but  to  many 


THE  PRIMARY   TEACHER.  189 

it  is  an  impossibility.  At  this  exigency  there  is 
required  an  executive  ability,  a  power  of  leader- 
ship, a  personal  magnetism,  an  inherent  faith  in 
herself,  which  is  the  pre-eminent  qualification  of  a 
true-born  teacher.  It  is  not  a  common  gift ;  it  is 
not  the  necessary  concomitant  of  a  fine  intellect 
or  of  a  beautiful  character ;  but  an  expression  of 
the  balancing  of  the  faculties,  a  native  poise  which 
acts  like  an  instinct  to  a  great  extent.  Its  posses- 
sor may  be  blindly  conscious  of  it ;  yet,  on  de- 
liberation, doubtful  of  its  possession  until  she 
comes  into  a  position  which  calls  for  its  exercise ; 
then  there  is  no  further  uncertainty ;  she  can 
trust  implicitly  to  it,  assured  of  success.  The 
gifts  of  mastery  and  organization  are  inborn,  and 
are  the  momentum  of  a  well  rounded  nature  im- 
pelled by  a  steady  motive  power.  One  may  learn 
their  methods  of  application  when  she  has  their 
essence  within  her ;  but  no  culture  can  engraft 
the  gifts  themselves.  When  one  who  knows  she 
holds  these  forces  in  her  hand  stands  before  an 
uncontrolled  horde  with  the  purpose  of  bringing 
order  out  of  chaos,  there  is  a  tacit  appreciation  of 
the  power  by  all  within  its  influence,  a  conscious 
recognition  of  it  by  older  minds,  an  unconscious 


19°      HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT* 

acceptation  of  it  by  younger  but  more  impressible 
beings ;  they  feel  that  they  are  to  obey,  and  she 
to  direct,  in  the  very  nature  of  things.  The  snarl 
and  disorder  of  all  the  tangled  threads  of  individ- 
ual assertion  unwind  and  divide,  to  unite  in 
harmonious  system.  Like  the  type-distributer 
into  which  the  printer's  pi  is  cast,  it  regulates  and 
sends  each  element  to  its  own  place,  noiselessly, 
and  with  exact  fitness.  Let  another  attempt  the 
same  office,  and  all  is  failure  and  confusion  ;  the 
hum  of  disorder  does  not  cease  ;  the  indifference 
and  inevitable  defiance  of  even  children,  placed 
under  inadequate  authority,  deepens  and  becomes 
appalling,  while  she  finds  herself  powerless  to 
quell  the  tumult ;  the  force  of  her  presence  has 
made  no  impression  upon  them.  Every  successful 
teacher  can  look  back  to  moments  in  her  experi- 
ence when  a  pause,  a  doubt,  a  suggestion  of 
insubordination,  seemed  imminent ;  but  acting 
only  as  a  stimulus  to  her  will,  evoked  a  quiet  pas- 
sion of  determination  which  made  her  mastery 
complete  and  permanent. 

See,  for  example,  a  fair,  delicately  bred  girl, 
fresh  from  normal  school  honors,  ushered  into  her 
first  school  as  teacher.  It  is  a  high  school  for 


THE   PRIMARY  TEACHER.  IQI 

both  sexes,  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  in 
number.  It  is  the  occasion  of  its  inauguration  as 
the  first  high  school  in  the  county ;  all  the  prin- 
cipal citizens  are  present,  with  many  others  inter- 
ested in  the  project.  As  the  young  teacher  takes 
her  seat  upon  the  platform,  a  maiden  stranger 
amidst  these  men  of  weight  and  influence,  her 
only  companion  there  the  principal  of  the  school, 
—  a  man  of  middle  life  and  long  experience,  — 
and  no  face  in  the  room  that  she  has  ever  seen 
before  this  eventful  day,  she  for  the  first  time  is 
struck  down  from  the  absorbed  inspiration  of  her 
consecrated  purpose,  and  trembles  as  she  looks 
around.  "  Ah,  I  am  so  incompetent !  why  did  I 
ccTme  here  ?  what  shall  I  do  when  those  great  boys 
refuse  to  mind  me  ? "  These  throbs  of  self-dis- 
trust make  her  shiver  like  an  aspen  for  a  while, 
and  as  the  interminable  speeches  go  on,  the 
curious  eyes  of  pupils  and  parents  disconcert  her ; 
although  she  looks  with  apparent  calmness  into 
the  faces  before  her,  she  trembles  indeed,  and  for 
the  first  time  loses  faith  ;  but  when  she  is  called 
upon  to  lead  half  the  school  to  a  separate  school- 
room and  take  them  in  sole  charge,  the  emer- 
gency summons  all  her  reserves  of  nerve  and  will ; 


IQ2        nOW  SHALL   MY   CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

the  tremor  of  doubt  is  swept  away  by  a  great  wave 
of  assurance,  and  when  she  stands  before  those 
over  whom,  though  scarcely  separated  by  years, 
she  has  been  placed  in  authority,  her  strength 
seems  to  her  invulnerable.  With  quiet  mien,  but 
with  unflinching  firmness,  she  meets  each  gaze  of 
inquiry,  and  checks  each  glance  of  doubtful 
scrutiny ;  her  genius  for  control  has  asserted 
itself,  and  the  reins  are  firmly  within  her  thrilling 
grasp.  All  serious  issue  between  her  scholars 
and  herself  is  forever  silenced.  Her  clear,  quiet 
tones  break  the  confirmed  hush,  as  she  directs 
them  to  the  work  of  the  hour ;  the  few  older  boys, 
who  have  been  the  terror  of  the  district  school, 
look  about  hesitatingly,  to  find  that  their  role  is 
left  out,  and  loyalty  is  their  best  subterfuge ; 
while  all  gravitate  unconsciously  to  control,  as  a 
disordered  heap  of  steel-filings  arrange  themselves 
about  the  magnetic  needle  laid  upon  them,  in 
lines  of  order  and  symmetry. 

This  power  of  control  and  organization  is  still 
more  spontaneous  in  its  exercise  and  complete  in 
its  influence  upon  an  assemblage  of  younger  chil- 
dren. About  two  hundred  girls  had  been  gath- 
ered from  the  alleys  and  cellars  of  a  city  by 


THE   PRIMARY   TEACHER.  1 93 

benevolent  and  cultured  young  ladies  and  brought 
together  to  form  a  sewing-school.  Not  one  of  the 
young  ladies  present  could  succeed  in  reducing 
them  to  sufficient  quiet  to  make  any  directions 
heard.  One  after  another  had  tried  in  vain  ; 
some  rang  the  bell  loudly ;  others  rapped  on  the 
table;  others  attempted  to  raise  their  voices  above 
the  general  uproar ;  others  went  among  the  horde 
and  tried  to  persuade.  But  all  was  of  no  avail ; 
nothing  was  done  toward  organizing  the  unruly 
crowd  until  the  youngest  teacher  arrived  late  ;  her 
companions  came  to  her  in  dismay.  "  What  can 
we  do  ?  We  have  tried  our  best  to  bring  them  to 
order,  but  they  will  not  hear,  nor  even  sit  down  ; 
do  try,  if  you  can  do  anything."  This  young  lady 
knew  her  power ;  it  had  been  trained  and  proved. 
She  stepped  to  the  platform  and  asked  the  other 
teachers  to  be  seated  there.  She  then  turned  to 
the  assemblage  before  her.  She  neither  rang  the 
bell  nor  spoke,  but,  coming  forward  as  near  to  the 
seething  surface  as  she  could,  she  cast  the  force  of 
that  magnetic  gift  of  mastery  over  the  noisy  ele- 
ments. The  lull  began  at  once ;  like  waves 
calmed  by  a  gentle  rain,  one  scholar  after  another 
dropped  into  a  seat  at  the  silent  gesture  of  the 


1 94       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

teacher;  in. a  few  moments  all  were  subdued;  the 
room  was  in  order.  Then,  with  an  instant  percep- 
tion of  the  natural  divisions  and  combinations  of 
their  various  degrees  of  age  and  intelligence,  she 
arranged  them  in  classes ;  with  a  nice  adaptation 
of  each  to  each,  indicated  their  respective  teach- 
ers. When  some  of  the  children  were  afterwards 
asked  why  they  did  not  come  to  order  before,  they 
said,  "  We  did  as  soon  as  the  mistress  came ;  we 
weren't  going  to  before."  So  she  became  the  mis- 
tress of  the  school  by  this  natural  appointment, 
because  the  gifts  of  mastery  and  organization  were 
in  her,  and  she  had  learned  how  to  use  them. 

The  first  appearance  of  a  teacher  before  her 
pupils  is  usually  a  test  of  her  possession  of  these 
essential  faculties,  but  by  no  means  the  only  occa- 
sion for  their  active  use.  They  come  into  the 
arrangement  of  every  class  and  the  work  of  every 
hour,  into  the  plan  of  each  recitation  and  every 
phase  of  the  relation  between  teacher  and  pupil. 
When  their  development  is  perfect  the  school  will 
be  destitute  of  any  germ  of  insubordination,  and 
every  pupil  responsive  to  the  idea  and  will  of  the 
teacher.  In  a  school  of  little  children,  the  teacher 
acts  like  a  true  mother,  and  they  hold  to  her  as  if 


THE   PRIMARY   TEACHER.  1 95 

covered  by  her  brooding  heart  and  mind,  breath- 
ing in  a  sweet  atmosphere,  while  they  bloom  and 
ripen  in  unbroken  content  like  rose-buds  in  the 
gardens  of  June. 

The  details  of  the  work  of  the  primary-school 
teacher  would  be  hard  to  enumerate ;  but  first 
and  most  apparent  is  the  physical  attention  the 
children  need  in  their  appeal  to  the  motherliness 
of  the  teacher.  They  must  be  clean  before  they 
can  be  orderly  and  good.  I  remember,  in  my 
nursery  days,  if  we  were  restless  and  cross, 
mother  would  sometimes  wash  our  faces  and 
hands,  brush  our  hair,  and  put  on  a  clean  apron, 
and  the  naughtiness  disappeared ;  we  could  not 
have  our  clothes  belie  us,  and  we  were  renewed  in 
spirit  by  the  physical  refreshment.  I  would  not 
engage  to  be  in  any  way  agreeable  or  dutiful  with 
grimy  hands,  a  sticky  face,  and  soiled  clothes. 
The  teacher  will,  in  some  way,  attend  to  this  pre- 
requisite of  good  order.  How  can  it  be  done  with 
fifty  children  from  homes  where  all  this  is  neg- 
lected ?  I  do  not  know,  but  I  have  known  a  teacher 
who  did  it  for  twenty  years  in  a  Boston  primary 
school.  This  good  woman  had  as  thoroughly  the 
feelings  of  a  mother  as  though  all  the  children  had 


IQ          HO IV  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

been  given  her  by  God.  She  begged  material 
when  she  could  not  buy  it,  cut  out  clothes  for 
them,  and  her  heart  tugged  at  every  cord  that 
could  lift  them  up.  I  have  seen  her  sewing  for 
them  all  the  vacation,  in  the  self-forgetfulness  and 
unconscious  devotion  of  a  mother,  until  she  died. 

You  may  say  this  was  the  life  of  a  missionary 
rather  than  of  a  public-school  teacher ;  but,  in 
many  respects,  the  path  of  both  is  the  same  path, 
—  the  spirit  should  be  the  same  spirit.  Let  the 
sense  of  justice  (of  those  who  deal  with  that  ques- 
tion) measure  the  compensation  which  such  a 
teacher  should  receive.  I  waive  that  matter  now  ; 
but  the  teacher  cannot  think  of  her  wages  as  her 
,chief  motive,  or  she  is  no  true  teacher.  I  foresee 
a  possible  charge  of  affectation  in  the  considera- 
tion of  this  matter ;  but  I  could  not  really  act 
toward  children,  or  in  the  line  of  mental  and  moral 
influence  upon  others,  with  the  idea  of  remunera- 
tion in  any  sense  a  motive.  The  motherly  spirit 
and  the  missionary  spirit  will  cover  a  great 
accumulation  of  the  detail  of  the  work  of  the 
primary-school  teacher,  and  transfigure  most  of 
what  seems  the  wear  and  tear  and  drudgery  of 
that  arduous  position. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

AN    ADDRESS    TO    PRIMARY-SCHOOL    TEACHERS. 

PRIMARY-SCHOOL  TEACHERS  !  my  associates  in 
this  transcendent  work,  I  have  longed  to  have  a 
word  with  you.  I  have  always  felt  an  enthusiasm 
for  our  profession,  though,  in  the  blindness  of  my 
early  zeal,  I  confess  to  having  had  a  comparative 
contempt  for  primary  teaching ;  but  after  three 
years  of  teaching  in  the  high  school  and  academy, 
Providence  sent  me  to  school  again  to  unlearn 
that  false  measurement  of  honors,  at  the  cradle 
and  in  the  nursery ;  so  that,  perchance,  the  time 
might  come  when  I  could  distinguish  between  the 
high  and  the  low,  the  great  and  the  small,  and 
perceive  that  the  material  of  childhood  is  the 
finest  material  that  a  teacher  can  possibly  have  to 
work  with,  the  primary  school  her  greatest  oppor- 
tunity, and  the  honor  of  good  work  there  the 
highest  honor  that  she  can  hope  to  achieve. 

As  I  pass  through  the  city  streets,  I  watch  the 
197 


HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

youngsters  dodging  the  teams,  sitting  on  the  curb- 
stone, trudging  by  the  road,  playing  in  the. 
gutters ;  and  I  think,  "  These  are  the  primary- 
school  children  who  will  go  all  dirty  and  boister- 
ous to  their  teachers,  and  they  will  be  at  their 
wits'  end  to  keep  them  attentive  and  tractable, 
and  to  obtain  that  result  which  shall  be  demanded 
at  their  hands."  Fifty  or  sixty  of  these  little 
Bohemians  trooping  in  to  you  daily !  I  do  not 
wonder  at  your  discouragement.  Reforms  are 
needed ;  not  more  than  twenty  scholars  to  a 
teacher,  the  abolition  of  much  of  the  statistics  and 
numerical  ranking,  better  salaries,  and  more 
personal  independence ;  these  are  what  you  ought 
to  have  and  will  have  at  (God  grant !)  no  distant 
day.  In  the  meantime,  you  must  bear  up  as  best 
you  may.  The  work  you  are  called  to  do  is  above 
pay,  and  although  you  ought  at  the  proper  time  to 
claim  a  just  equivalent  for  the  work  if  you  prove 
yourself  equal  to  it,  yet  keep  this  matter  far  from 
you  as  a  motive  ;  it  will  take  all  the  life  and  value 
out  of  your  influence  and  your  endeavors.  You 
are  doing  the  work  because  you  love  it,  and  would 
do  it  without  pay  rather  than  it  should  be  left 
undone ;  it  is  too  noble  a  work,  and  too  near  your 


TO  PRIMARY-SCHOOL    TEACHERS.  199 

heart,  to  be  measured  by  money.  If  you  merely 
want  high  wages,  and  teach  only  because  you  can 
get  your  living  by  it,  you  are  not  a  teacher  in  any 
high  sense  of  the  word.  We  must  not  be  mere 
operatives  or  workers  at  a  trade,  but  members  of  a 
profession,  masters  of  an  art ;  we  must  go  into 
school  with  this  consecration  to  our  vocation,  and 
we  shall  carry  with  us  the  fresh  vitality  which  will 
give  tone  to  the  very  poorest  class  of  pupils,  and 
the  magnetism  of  our  presence  will  crystallize 
even  the  rudest  elements  into  order  and  symme- 
try, as  the  magnet,  placed  upon  steel  filings,  con- 
verges them  into  lines  of  beauty.  These  restless 
elements  before  us  are  evidently  ready  to  attend 
for  an  instant  to  almost  anything  that  comes  in 
their  way.  How  natural,  then,  for  the  teacher  to 
follow  this  hint  of  pleasurable  excitement,  of  a 
succession  of  images,  and  appeal  to  their  constant 
curiosity  !  Let  her  present  things  to  the  child  as 
in  a  kaleidoscope ;  he  will  give  his  absorbed  atten- 
tion to  this  presentation  of  interesting  phases  in  a 
prepared,  but  unannounced  sequence,  which  will 
reveal  more  to  him  in  a  few  minutes  than  an 
hour's  task-work. 

I  believe  in  the  "  Natural  methods,"  or,  as  they 


2OO       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

are  now  called,  "the  New  methods."  Perhaps 
their  more  general  diffusion  is  new,  and  all  honor 
to  the  energy  and  positive  apprehension  of  the 
man  who  has  at«last  aroused  the  attention  of  the 
public  in  their  behalf  !  The  native  restlessness  of 
the  child  indicates  the  right  course  with  him ;  a 
frequent  change  of  theme,  the  senses  leading,  the 
mind  following,  growing  and  strengthening  and 
rejoicing  in  acquiring  knowledge  concerning  all 
which  his  senses  or  his  imagination  seize  upon. 
Allow  yourself  to  be  in  sympathy  with  the  chil- 
dren ;  become  yourself  as  a  little  child,  abandon 
yourself  to  the  happiness  of  receptivity,  and  be  as 
one  who  inquires  and  studies  with  them.  Yet 
one  must  be  master  of  a  subject  to  give  it  to  a 
child,  to  stimulate  his  interest,  to  invest  it  with 
that  pleasurable  excitement  which  shall  absorb  his 
attention,  to  lead  him  by  what  he  has  seen  to 
what  he  has  not  seen,  to  add  fact  to  fact  as  a 
result  of  his  power  of  inference,  —  not  as  one 
would  pile  stone  upon  stone,  but  as  nature  multi- 
plies cells,  and  as  mind  evolves  thought ;  so  that 
the  mind  is  working  while  storing  up,  —  not  with 
a  mechanical  memory  merely,  but  with  every  fibre 
of  the  brain  in  harmonious  and  balanced  action ; 


TO  PRIMARY-SCHOOL    TEACHERS.  2OI 

this  is  healthful  and  delightful.  It  is  dispropor- 
tionate and  forced  work,  drudgery  one  way  or 
another,  which  wearies  and  kills ;  the  balanced 
activity  of  the  brain,  like  the  skilful  playing  of  an 
instrument,  keeps  it  in  tune.  The  natural,  not 
the  morbid  activity  of  a.  child's  mind,  is  perfectly 
safe,  and  should  not  be  discouraged  but  satisfied. 

The  question  is  often  asked,  "  What  should  we 
attempt  to  teach  young  children  ? "  To  read,  to 
write,  to  spell  ?  Yes,  they  must  have  their  tools, 
—  the  dishes  first,  on  which  the  dinner  shall  be 
served.  How  shall  these  be  taught  ?  The  old 
way  or  the  new  way,  as  the  individual  mind  takes 
it  best ;  some  sec  how  words  are  spelled,  some 
Jiear  better  how ;  some  want  to  analyze  and  get 
the  letters  first,  others  read  at  a  glance,  m9re  by 
vivid  impression  of  sight ;  but  with  a  strong  desire 
to  read  and  write,  and  an  aroused  interest  in 
things,  they  will  soon  learn  by  any  method.  I 
have  seen  many  a  child  who  read  before  its 
mother  or  teachers  knew  it,  through  the  force  of 
a  spontaneous  desire,  almost  as  one  insensibly 
acquires  a  foreign  language  by  frequent  rapid  read- 
ing without  translation.  But  while  they  are  learn- 
ing how  to  manage  their  tools  they  want  food ; 


2O2      HOW  SHALL   MY   CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

they  will  ask  you  all  sorts  of  questions  ;  no  wide- 
awake child  will  rest  satisfied  with  learning  to 
read,  write,  and  spell,  or  even  to  reckon,  while  he 
is  waiting  for  the  grammar  school,  He  sees  a 
thousand  phenomena  before  him,  and  he  is  deter- 
mined to  know  something  about  fhem  ;  if  you 
deny  or  hinder  him  you  do  all  in  your  power  to 
stultify  him  ;  you  make  him  dull  and  stupid,  if  you 
do  not  drive  him  into  wrong  paths  of  inquiry. 
How  many  children  are  turned  toward  vice 
because  prevented  from  learning  what  they  have  a 
right  to  be  taught !  You  may  take  your  class  into 
the  fields  and  woods  :  can  you  avoid  teaching  the 
essentials  of  structural  botany  ?  can  you  escape 
something  of  mineralogy  and  geology  among  the 
hills  and  along  the  rocky  shores  ?  can  you  shut 
their  eyes  and  yours  to  the  birds,  the  insects,  the 
myriad  forms  in  which  Nature  is  constantly  chal- 
lenging them  to  learn  and  you  to  teach  ?  It  is 
astonishing  how  much  of  the  essence  of  all  the 
sciences,  leaving  out  the  technology,  you  can  give 
a  child  in  just  those  exigencies  when  he  really 
wants  to  know,  and  when,  because  the  knowledge 
comes  at  his  command,  he  will  be  able  then  and 
thereafter  to  command  it.  True,  we  must  have 


TO   PRIMARY-SCHOOL    TEACHERS.  2O3 

all  our  knowledge  at  command,  for  these  children 
to  whom  Nature  is  whispering  her  searching  ques- 
tions will  soon  drive  us  to  our  reserves.  Do  you 
think  you  know  enough  to  teach  a  class  in  physics 
in  the  high  school  ?  That  may  easily  be,  and  yet 
you  may  not  know  half  enough  to  teach  it  in  a 
primary  school.  You  may  know  enough  of  other 
sciences  to  fill  a  professor's  chair,  and  often  be 
forced  to  say,  "  I  don't  know "  to  a  keen-eyed 
group  of  just  these  Bohemians  the  town  turns  into 
your  school-room  to  be  educated.  I  insist  that 
the  most  accomplished  scholar  is  not  too  learned 
to  teach  the  primary  school.  Did  not  the  elder 
Mill  devote  his  great  powers  and  acquisitions  to 
the  daily  training  of  his  three-year-old  son,  the 
little  John  Stuart,  without  a  hint  that  the  work 
was  beneath  him,  —  a  school  of  one  baby,  pupil  for 
the  most  accomplished  of  scholars  !  To  usher  one 
mind  upon  the  infinite  vista  of  human  learning  is 
a  great  task  for  a  great  mind.  Yes,  you  are  in  no 
danger  of  knowing  too  much  for  your  primary 
classes.  I  have  heard  of  the  failure  of  attempts 
to  teach  by  oral  lessons.  I  have  thought  it  like 
the  failure  to  provide  a  sufficient  meal  from 
an  empty  larder,  or  the  failure  of  an  effort  at 


2O4     HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

fine  workmanship  without  trained  and  gifted 
workers. 

But  you  may  say  your  work  is  already  set  for 
you, — to  appoint  tasks,  to  fill  up  programmes, 
and  put  the  wheels  on  the  track  for  the  grammar 
schools  to  attend  to  the  machinery.  If  that  is  so, 
it  is  no  less  true  that  these  are  but  parts  of  the 
husk,  the  shell  only  of  your  sphere  of  labor. 
There  is  a  deep,  vital  work  which  is  your  God- 
commissioned  work,  and  will  remain  to  affect  the 
whole  life  of  your  pupils.  The  ardor  for  learning, 
the  taste  for  beauty,  the  aspiration  for  character, 
are  all  lying  dormant  in  them,  to  be  touched  by 
your  evoking  hand.  It  is  these  springs  and 
motives  of  growth  that  it  should  be  our  ambition 
to  arouse,  —  these  that  are  to  determine  the  prog- 
ress of  the  children  and  to  mould  the  age  into 
which  they  shall  breathe  their  force  and  spirit 
hereafter.  To  kindle  undying  fires  that  shall 
purge,  refine,  and  exalt  the  life  of  the  next  genera- 
tion,—  that  is  your  province. 

Even  the  mechanical  part  of  your  work  will  be 
better  done  for  this  inspiration.  An  elasticity  of 
mind,  and  a  subjection  of  the  littlenesses  that 
irritate  both  school  and  teacher,  will  unconsciously 


TO  PRIMARY-SCHOOL    TEACHERS.  2O5 

emanate  from  your  well  poised  nature,  so  that  the 
results  of  discipline  are  often  attained  impercepti- 
bly. Manners  are  taken  by  infection.  The  quiet 
lady  who  presides  with  polite  consideration  and 
unfailing  courtesy  will  gradually  develop  that 
courtesy  and  kindness  reciprocally.  By  your  own 
gracious  presence  lead  your  pupils  to  admire  what 
is  refined,  to  recognize  a  lady  whenever  they  may 
meet  her,  and  to  be  gradually  transformed  into 
the  same  image.  Lead  them  by  your  own  personal 
example  to  see  the  unfitness  of  tawdry  show,  of 
pretence,  of  falsity  in  anything;  your  dress,  your 
bearing,  your  habit  of  look  and  speech  will  be 
reflected  in  your  school ;  your  qualities  will  enter 
into  its  structure  as  the  leaven  into  the  flour. 
Let  the  glow  of  a  cheerful  face,  a  cordial  sym- 
pathy, a  pleasant  humor,  and  even  a  hearty  laugh, 
irradiate  your  school-room.  It  will  freshen  the  air 
and  invigorate  both  teachers  and  taught ;  and  if  a 
frequent  play  of  wit  is  added  to  the  prevailing 
sunshine,  it  will  be  as  fascinating  and  awakening 
as  the  dazzle  of  a  prism  in  the  sunny  room.  Go 
into  your  school  under  an  inspiration  ;  educate 
your  mind  to  be  a  clear  channel  for  the  truths  of 
science  and  of  nature ;  teach  your  heart  to  send 


206       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

through  the  arteries  of  your  school-life  the  love 
and  the  amenities  of  a  beautiful  character,  and 
allow  your  soul  to  transmit  the  love  and  goodness 
of  God,  your  indwelling  presence.  All  that  is 
good  outwardly  comes  from  what  is  true  and 
beautiful  inwardly.  She  can  transform  the  rudest 
material  to  fineness  who  is  truly  refined,  the  most 
hardened  to  softness  who  deals  with  it  tenderly. 
Be  all  that  you  would  make  your  own  children, 
and  look  at  each  child  as  if  it  were  indeed 
your  own. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE    SCIENCE    OF    PRIMARY    TEACHING. 
I. 

ANY  discerning  and  thoughtful  person  who  has 
watched  with  the  absorbed  intentness  of  parental 
interest  the  opening  life  of  the  human  being  can- 
not but  have  observed  its  most  obvious  endowments 
of  body,  mind,  and  soul,  and  the  order  in  which 
they  manifest  themselves.  If  to  the  parental  be 
added  the  scientific  interest,  this  order  will  be 
carefully  noted,  and  the  method,  condition,  and 
sphere  of  activity  of  every  faculty  during  the  sim- 
plest stage  of  individual  being  will  be  discovered 
as  a  basis  for  psychological  laws. 

As  the  attention  of  the  educational  public  is 
more  and  more  called  to  such  investigations, 
parents  and  teachers  will  learn  to  study  more  care- 
fully the  phenomena  of  the  opening  mind.  In 
such  study  their  sympathy  and  intelligent  appre- 
ciation will  develop  a  sure  ground  for  true  edu- 
207 


208      HO IV  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

cational  principles.  The  mother  will  no  longer 
struggle  blindly  through  the  most  important  years 
of  her  relations  with  her  children,  marring  the 
symmetry  of  nature's  design,  learning  only  by  a 
series  of  irretrievable  mistakes  how  to  train  the 
immortal  being ;  the  teacher  will  have  a  chart  for 
his  guidance  on  the  infinite  sea  of  human  influence 
and  endeavor,  as  it  is  thrown  around  the  forming 
destiny  of  human  life ;  and  although  earnest  pur- 
pose and  unremitting  care  can  never  be  relin- 
quished, yet  they  will  be  directed  by  unfailing  law, 
and  act  amid  the  illuminations  of  established  sci- 
ence. This  will  bring  the  repose  of  certainty  to 
the  anxious  heart  of  the  mother,  and  save  her 
many  a  pang  of  self-accusation  in  the  future,  as 
she  sees  with  pain  the  results  of  her  ignorance  in 
the  blemished  career  of  which  she  had  cherished 
a  spotless  ideal  in  her  young  maternity.  It  will 
be  no  less  valuable  to  the  teacher  to  work  in  the 
realm  of  mind  and  soul  with  the  assurance  of  the 
chemist  in  the  laboratory,  or  the  electrician 
acquainted  with  the  laws  of  his  material,  which 
almost  approaches  in  subtlety  the  essence  which 
the  teacher  attempts  to  deal  with  in  the  school- 
room. Let  the  teacher  and  parent  commence  at 


SCIENCE   OF  PRIMARY  TEACHING. 

once,  then,  this  all-important  study  of  the  laws  of 
development  of  the  human  being. 

The  babe  lies  passive  and  almost  unconscious  in 
its  mother's  arms,  as  ignorant  of  his  faculties  and 
their  uses  as  if  the  law  of  heredity  had  not  come 
to  his  assistance.  His  connections  with  the  out- 
ward world,  and  the  advantages  he  may  gain  from 
them,  are  wholly  unknown  to  him.  The  bee  bursts 
from  its  cell  prepared  to  carry  out  the  aggregated 
wisdom  of  his  species,  to  build  its  complicated 
cell,  and  put  to  immediate  and  effective  use  all 
its  essential  powers  ;  the  young  brute  animal,  mas- 
ter of  its  position  in  the  first  few  hours  of  its  air- 
breathing  life,  starts  out  with  a  mature  inheritance, 
and  is  able  to  direct  its  muscular  activity  and  exer- 
cise its  intelligence  as  readily  as  its  parent ;  but 
the  human  child,  with  its  eternally  progressive  life, 
proceeds  very  gradually  to  its  inheritance,  unfolds 
its  powers,  and  accommodates  itself  to  its  position 
by  slow  stages.  His  mind  and  soul,  as  well  as  his 
body,  are  in  the  dawn  of  activity.  The  body  offers 
the  intelligence  the  only  way  to  its  environments. 
The  child  can  acquire  knowledge  only  by  the  ave- 
nues of  his  senses,  and  has  first  to  discover  by 
experiment  how  to  use  the  senses.  He  opens  the 


210      HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

organ  of  sight,  and  light  attacks  his  consciousness, 
—  not  at  once,  perceptibly,  but  by  degrees,  through 
repeated  opportunity.  Through  almost  impercep- 
tible developments  of  sensation  he  feels,  and  the 
existence  of  external  matter  is  revealed  to  him  ; 
he  tastes  and  smells,  an:l  other  facts  respond  ;  he 
hears,  and  sound  answers  to  his  natural  suscepti- 
bility. His  training  has  begun  ;  Nature  is  faithful 
to  him,  and  takes  charge  of  his  education  from 
the  first ;  any  other  teaching  must  be  in  the  direct 
line  of  her  infallible  methods.  Brief  and  intermit- 
tent are  the  lessons  ;  the  babe  sleeps  in  utter  rest, 
and  then  awakes  to  receive  new  accessions  to  his 
natural  mental  growth  through  the  senses,  and 
physical  growth  through  the  instincts.  Percep- 
tion, the  first  psychical  act,  is  begun  in  the  brain 
through  its  connection  by  the  body  with  outward 
phenomena.  Nature  teaches  by  repeated  presen- 
tation of  the  subject  of  observation,  when  the  mind 
is  rested  and  attentive  to  the  sense-opportunity. 
If  we  would  teach  further,  it  must  be  under  simi- 
lar conditions  and  by  the  same  plan.  We  may 
multiply  the  objects  of  observation,  arouse  desires, 
stimulate  the  sense,  and  respond  to  the  instinctive 
desire  of  the  child's  soul  for  sympathetic  enjoy- 


SCIENCE   OF  PRIMARY   TEACHING.  211 

ment.  To  light  we  can  add  color  and  motion, 
which  will  awaken  attention  and  excite  pleasurable 
activity  of  the  sense  of  sight.  The  complication 
of  ideas  thus  furnished  to  the  mind  makes  a 
stronger  impression  and  gives  more  complete 
knowledge,  as  well  as  trains  and  develops  the 
sense  which  is  the  medium  of  ideas.  Sympathy, 
attention,  and  fidelity  to  nature  in  the  training  of 
the  infant  mind  and  soul  through  the  senses,  is 
the  first  step  in  the  scientific  education  of  the 
child.  The  training  of  the  senses  is  the  beginning 
of  the  education  of  the  body ;  the  evolution  of 
perception  and  consciousness,  through  the  activity 
of  the  senses,  is  the  beginning  of  mental  educa- 
tion ;  and  the  awakening  of  love,  desire,  and  will, 
through  the  sympathy  of  the  parent  or  teacher,  is 
the  dawn  of  soul-education  ;  all  of  which,  so  indis- 
solubly  connected,  must  progress  harmoniously  as 
nature  has  indicated  by  every  sign  of  its  methods 
with  the  childhood  of  the  immortal  human 

II. 

To   proceed  with    the    training    of   the  ; 
which  forms  so  large  a  part  of  the  earliest 
tion  :  the  sense  of  si<rht  soon  furnishes  the  brain 


212     HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

with  ideas  of  light,  form,  color,  and  motion  ;  the 
sense  of  sound  conveys  ideas  of  tone,  perhaps  of 
rhythm  and  harmony,  according  to  the  natural 
perfection  of  the  organ  and  the  susceptibility  of 
the  brain,  or  according  to  the  judicious  presenta- 
tion by  the  teacher  of  the  sound-vibrations;  the 
sense  of  touch  has  given  ideas  of  hardness,  weight, 
resistance,  surface,  and  figure ;  and  the  senses  of 
taste  and  smell  have  contributed  their  appropriate 
but  simple  ideas.  The  work  of  the  mother,  who 
is  the  child's  divinely  appointed  teacher  at  this 
period  of  its  life,  is  to  guard  the  organs  of  sense 
from  injury,  and  to  keep  them  in  a  healthy  balance 
of  rest  and  activity,  according  to  the  dictates  of 
Nature.  She  will  discover  very  early  the  principle 
that  a  rightly  adjusted  amount  of  exercise  strength- 
ens any  organ  or  faculty  of  body,  mind,  or  sou], 
and  that  over-exercise  exhausts  and  impairs  it. 
This  is  a  fundamental  principle,  from  which  her 
methods  may  never  vary.  If  she  would  strengthen 
any  faculty,  she  must  give  it  active  exercise.  She 
will  apply  this  principle  so  as  never  to  do  for  the 
child  what  it  can  do  for  itself  to  its  better  advan- 
tage, remembering,  as  an  unvarying  law,  that 
knowledge,  mental  ability,  and  character  are  to 


SCIENCE    OF  PRIMARY    TEACHING.  213 

be  acquired  through  activity  of  the  intellectual 
and  moral  powers,  and  not  through  their  receptiv- 
ity. She  will  learn  that  enjoyment  in  the  exercise 
of  the  faculties  creates  desire  for  more  exercise, 
and  gives  vividness-  and  tenacity  to  the  impres- 
sions produced  by  that  exercise.  She  finds  at 
first  that  no  attempt  can  be  made  to  produce  an 
idea  in  the  child's  mind  except  through  the  senses, 
and  that  most  knowledge  of  the  outward  world  is 
best  conveyed  to  the  mind,  and  most  truly  assimi- 
lated at  all  stages  of  its  progress,  by  the  direct 
application  of  the  senses,  by  actual  personal  exper- 
iment, which  is  the  type  of  Nature's  lessons,  and 
should  be  followed  by  the  obedient  student  as  the 
pattern  of  right  education. 

.  Let  the  child  handle,  smell,  see,  and  even  taste 
where  it  is  safe  ;  let  him  try  all  his  instinctive 
devices  for  discovery ;  destruction  of  material  may 
be  the  construction  of  mental  attainment  and 
power ;  incessant  investigation  is  the  order  of 
nature  for  the  child  in  his  contact  with  the  out- 
ward world,  which  is  to  furnish  him  with  knowl- 
edge, with  tools,  with  forces,  and  with  power  to 
use  them.  The  province  of  the  teacher  as  an  aid 
to  nature  is  to  lead  the  mind  to  its  material  for 


214       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   />'/•:    TAUGHT? 

observation,  to  conduct  as  far  as  necessary  the 
order  of  observation  most  conducive  to  clear  im- 
pressions, and  to  direct  to  the  same  end  the 
grouping  or  association  of  impressions. 

As  the  education  of  the  senses  goes  on,  the 
brain  receives  a  greater  number  and  variety  of 
ideas,  obtained  by  perception  through  sensation  ; 
sight,  sound,  touch,  smell,  taste,  produce  more  and 
more  complicated  images  in  the  mind,  until  their 
strong  segregation  results  in  the  conception  of 
units  or  things  of  many  qualities  ;  also  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  those  ideas  and  of  outward  material 
existences  as  the  combination  of  those  ideas ;  at 
last,  identity,  which  is  a  consciousness  of  the  know- 
ing self,  appears  as  a  fact  to  the  mind,  and  the 
child's  relations  with  himself  have  begun.  This 
is  a  great  era  in  the  education  of  the  mind  and  of 
the  soul,  for  all  this  time  ideas  of  moral  forces 
have  taken  root  as  the  spring  of  character.  Ideas 
of  love  and  justice  should  both  have  been  dis- 
tinctly outlined  in  the  child's  understanding,  and, 
by  the  help  of  the  mother,  fixed  in  the  heart. 
Some  notion  of  cause  and  effect,  —  of  the  neces- 
sity of  cause,  of  the  surety  of  effect ;  some  idea 
of  the  authority  of  the  parent  and  of  the  required 


SCIENCE   OF-PRIMARY  TEACHING.  215 

obedience  of  the  child,  should  have  been  educed 
by  the  mother's  training,  through  sympathy  and 
responsive  love,  or  through  rewards  and  punish- 
ments, acting  in  the  line  of  right  or  wrong  doing, 
according  to  the  natural  connection  of  cause  and 
effect. 

There  should  be  no  arbitrary  or  variable  dealing 
with  the  child's  moral  apprehension.  Nature  al- 
ways preserves  the  similarity  of  kind  even  in  pun- 
ishing or  rewarding,  and  is  inflexible  in  assigning 
the  instructive  discipline  of  result.  So  should  the 
teacher  be,  if  she  would  evolve  ideas  of  moral 
truth.  She  should  present  to  the  child's  moral 
perception  a  living  example  of  perfect  truthful- 
ness, justice,  kindness,  sympathy,  and  self-control, 
so  that  the  moral  perception  of  the  child  may 
receive  ideas  of  goodness,  truth,  justice,  love,  and 
power,  which  shall  be  pure  and  eternal,  for  of 
these  images  given  by  the  mot-her  from  her  own 
soul,  and  through  her  training  of  her  child's  moral 
nature,  he  will  in  time  form  a  union  of  ideas  which 
shall  give  him  his  conception  of  the  creative  and 
sustaining  Spirit  of  the  universe,  —  the  root  of  all 
his  eternal  outgrowth  of  character. 

In  this  connection  the  training  of  the  will  has 


2l6       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

its  constant  place.  It  must  never  be  broken  or 
forced  into  obedience  through  fear.  That  were  to 
destroy  the  delicate  lever  of  all  the  intricate  ma- 
chinery of  development.  It  should  be  kept  active, 
but  subordinated  to  love  as  its  earliest  authority, 
afterward  to  its  sense  of  justice  and  right,  and  its 
self-governing  sense,  which  grows  in  the  rightly 
educated  soul  as^  soon  as  it  begins  to  discover  its 
relations  with  itself.  Obedience  to  authority 
through  love, — first  to  the  parent,  afterward  to 
the  idea  of  a  Supreme  Creator,  whose  relations 
with  the  conscious  spirit  have  become  established 
by  intelligent  apprehension,  —  should  be  wrought 
into  the  habit  of  the  child's  actions  by  every  influ- 
ence of  the  parent  or  teacher ;  so  the  will  may  be 
made  active  in  controlling  desire  and  forming 
character  even  from  the  earliest  childhood.  So 
interwoven  are  the  three  constituent  elements  of 
human  nature,  so  important  the  quality  of  the 
influences  which  are  to  develop  them  all  harmoni- 
ously, that  the  teacher  must  never  ignore  one  of 
them  in  the  true  science  of  education. 


SCIENCE    OF  PRIMARY   TEACHING. 


III. 

ALL  the  sensations,  perceptions,  and  impres- 
sions which  establish  the  child's  relations  with 
himself  and  other  entities,  may  be  rendered  more 
heterogeneous  and  definite  by  the  teacher.  The 
senses  should  be  constantly  educated  to  take  in 
many  qualities,  their  coherence  and  relations  ; 
impressions  should  be  multiplied  to  give  more  and 
more  complete  images  of  objects,  to  enlarge  the 
scope  and  perfect  the  quality  of  the  knowledge 
obtained  by  observation  through  the  senses.  The 
education  of  the  organs  of  sense  should  be  con- 
stantly encouraged  until  they  acquire  facility  and 
reach  a  high  degree  of  sensitiveness.  It  were 
easy  to  prove  that  the  susceptibility  of  the  senses 
can  be  increased  almost  indefinitely,  and  the 
power  of  observation  cultivated  so  as  greatly  to 
intensify  and  complicate  perception.  To  approxi- 
mate the  full  evolution  of  the  physical  powers  is  a 
fundamental  part  of  human  education.  Nature  is 
always  inviting  the  child  to  the  acquisition  of  ease 
and  grace  in  every  bodily  movement  ;  to  the  un- 
conscious activity  of  the  powers  ;  to  the  fu'.l 
development  of  the  senses  ;  the  thoroughness  and 


HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE   TAUGHT? 

nicety  of  their  application  to  their  material ;  to 
the  attainment  of  fineness  and  strength  ;  to  the 
habit  of  exactitude  and  infallibility  in  the  use  of 
the  physical  apparatus.  The  teacher  can  help  in 
this  direction  from  the  first.  Frobel  shows  us 
how,  —  in  the  plays  of  the  nursery  and  kindergar- 
ten, as  he  learned  from  the  efforts  and  needs  of 
the  mother  in  training  her  child.  The  sight  of 
the  sailor,  the  naturalist,  and  the  artist ;  the  hear- 
ing of  the  savage,  the  woodsman,  and  the  musi- 
cian ;  the  touch  of  the  blind,  all  illustrate  the 
advance  to  which  attentive  and  well  directed 
exercise  may  bring  the  senses  as  th%  media  of 
accurate  and  complete  perception.  This  part  of 
the  work  of  teaching  may  be  so  extended  as  to 
include  the  mastery  of  all  the  organs  and  func- 
tions of  the  body  as  instruments  of  mind,  the 
control  of  the  muscles,  the  healthy  development 
of  all  the  physical  powers.  This  kind  of  educa- 
tion applies  to  the  gymnasium,  all  kinds  of  indus- 
trial occupation,  artistic  training  of  the  eye  and 
hand,  practice  of  every  muscle  and  sinew,  and 
conditions  of  the  most  perfect  health  of  body. 
The  functions  of  the  body,  the  movements  of 
every  organ,  should  become  as  nearly  automatic  as 


SCIENCE   OF  PRIMARY   TEACHING. 

possible.  The  hand  of  the  pianist,  the  foot  of  the 
dancer,  the  organs  of  articulation,  the  sight  of  the 
rapid  reader,  all  acquire  an  unconscious  accuracy 
and  spontaneity  of  motion  which  is  the  result  of 
habit,  and  much  like  the  automatic  movements  of 
the  vital  organs  of  the  body. 

The  instinct  of  the  child  demands  constant 
exercise  unceasingly  toward  this  result  of  auto- 
matic action.  And  yet  a  wise  regulation  of  all  this 
exercise  is  an  essential  part  of  the  teacher's  work. 
No  excess  of  material  or  of  stimulus  develops 
permanent  power.  A  judicious  letting  alone  or 
trusting  to  the  sufficiency  of  Nature  is  often  the 
right  course  for  the  teacher,  whose  judgment  must 
always  be  guided  by  all  the  factors  of  the  case ; 
the  temperament,  the  reserved  bodily  strength, 
the  inherited  tendencies,  and  other  indications  of 
the  child's  organization  or  development  must 
determine  the  amount  of  the  teacher's  assistance. 
Her  direction  of  Nature's  forces  cannot  be  too 
carefully  adapted  to  the  child's  individual  necessi- 
ties. The  play  of  the  nursery,  the  out-of-door 
freedom  of  action,  the  occupations  of  the  kinder- 
garten, the  object-lessons  of  the  primary  school, 
and  the  mechanical  work  of  any  kind  to  which  the 


22O      HO IV  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

child  may  be  safely  introduced,  should  be  supplied 
in  response  to  the  demand  of  Nature  and  accord- 
ing to  the  measure  of  her  desire.  All  the  work 
which  is  given  with  a  moral  purpose  should  be  in 
the  natural  channel  of  child-interests  or  given  zest 
by  some  motive  which  acts  as  a  cheering  incentive. 

In  order  to  second  Nature  in  the  intellectual 
training  of  the  child,  the  teacher  may  assist  the 
mind  in  gaining  strong  and  clear  images  by 
repetition  and  practice  of  knowledge,  so  that  these 
images  shall  be  more  easily  received  until  they 
come  into  play  unconsciously  in  effective  succes- 
sion. The  greater  the  facility  of  automatic  mental j 
action,  the  greater  the  power  of  the  mind.  We 
consider  this  kind  of  mental  activity  the  highest 
within  our  knowledge.  We  must  make  it  our 
ultimate  object  in  the  work  of  intellectual  educa- 
tion, and  aim  to  give  the  mind  that  final  mastery 
over  the  organs  of  its  activity  which  shall  carry 
out  all  its  great  capabilities. 

And  in  connection  with  the  cultivation  of  the 
body  with  that  of  the  mind,  and  of  both  with  the 
education  of  the  soul,  we  should  take  advantage  of 
the  best  conditions  for  the  presentation  of  the 
mental  pabulum.  When  the  faculties  of  the  pupil 


SCIENCE    OF  PRIMARY   TEACHING.  221 

are  stimulated  by  desire  ;  when  the  brain  is  fresh 
and  unfatigued ;  when  its  strength  is  renewed  by 
a  healthy  flow  of  blood ;  when  the  appetite  for 
knowledge  is  awakened  by  the  natural  proximity 
of  the  subject  for  study;  when  there  comes  that 
pleasurable  excitement  and  effort  of  the  faculties 
which  is  called  out  by  responsive  enjoyment,  then 
such  exercise  will  leave  a  more  permanent  and 
revivable  image  on  the  brain,  and  a  true  and  last- 
ing impression  will  be  formed. 

The  soul  craves  sympathy,  which  the  teacher 
should  not  fail  to  give,  as  it  adds  moral  exercise  to 
the  mental,  and  furnishes  the  soul  with  the  tonic 
of  enthusiasm.  We  must  listen  to  what  the  child 
has  to  tell,  rejoice  in  his  intellectual  and  moral 
victories,  share  his  delight  in  the  discovery  of  his 
powers.  Thus  we  help  him  to  win  further  victo- 
ries in  his  mental  and  moral  career,  and  experience 
fewer  defeats  of  purpose. 

IV. 

IN  all  the  work  of  teaching,  the  mind  should  be 
guarded  against  injury  by  too  great,  or  long-con- 
tinued, or  unreasonable  exertion.  The  bodily 
organs  and  functions  should  be  kept  in  a  health- 


222       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

ful  condition  ;  no  faculty  should  be  taxed  to  an 
unsym metrical  degree  ;  harmony  of  the  bodily  and 
mental  development  should  be  aimed  at,  so  that 
one  part  of  the  being  shall  not  defraud  another, 
but  each  receive  its  fair  share  of  vitality.  There 
must  be  no  cramming,  no  stimulating  to  the 
point  of  impairing  the  nervous  strength ;  nor 
should  all  minds  be  urged  to  the  same  plane 
of  accomplishment.  The  individuality  of  the 
pupil  must  always  be  a  strong  factor  in  right 
education,  and  every  tendency  to  mechanical 
grading  is  a  baffling  and  defeat  of  the  principles 
of  psychology. 

The  healthful  stimulus  of  sympathy  should 
accompany  study,  —  not  the  unhealthful  one 
of  rivalry,  which  is  the  one  too  often  appealed 
to  by  grading  and  examinations  of  school- 
work. 

The  work  of  teaching  is  well  begun  by  nature 
in  the  spontaneous  methods  of  the  nursery  :  the 
responsiveness  and  love  of  the  mother,  giving 
joyous  emphasis  to  every  new  motion  and  attain- 
ment of  the  child,  is  a  life-giving  atmosphere,  not 
only  for  the  mind  but  for  the  soul.  Let  there  be 
no  thwarting  of  nature  in  her  efforts  to  prepare 


SCIENCE    OF  PRIMARY  TEACHING.  223 

the  child  for  complete  being,  —  the  harmonious 
life  of  the  body  and  soul.  In  even  the  earliest 
stage  of  development  of  the  human  body  we  see 
the  germ  of  spiritual  life ;  this  is  constantly 
evolved.  Responsive  joy  and  sympathy  are  the 
first  steps  in  that  work.  The  young  soul  makes 
its  unconscious  appeal  to  the  mother,  to  the 
teacher,  for  love,  for  constancy,  for  truth  ;  as  she 
answers  that  appeal,  so  the  soul  receives  these 
ideas,  and  forms  an  image  which  is  as  much  a 
fundamental  fact  of  soul-knowledge  as  the  percep- 
tions and  the  ideas  they  implant  are  the  elements 
of  whatever  moral  or  religious  structure  the  grow- 
ing soul  may  build.  The  soul  naturally  believes 
in  these  perceptions  as  the  mind  does  in  sense- 
perceptions,  and  these  faculties  of  the  soul  must 
be  regarded  as  equally  trustworthy  with  those  of 
the  mind  and  body.  The  instincts  of  the  soul 
are  true  and  reliable ;  no  untrustworthy  phenom- 
ena should  be  -presented  to  destroy  that  faith  of 
the  soul  in  its  instincts.  Let  the  whole  work  of 
teaching  continually  build  up  faith  in  the  certainty 
of  knowledge  obtained  by  the  perceptions,  by  in- 
tuition and  consciousness ;  this  is  one  of  the  most 
invariable  of  nature's  lessons.  If  we  deceive  the 


224      HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

child  in  any  way,  —  if  we  admit  anything  less 
than  the  full  truth  to  shine  upon  him,  we  do  all  in 
our  power  to  impair  the  perfect  faithfulness  of 
nature's  representation,  and  to  confuse  his  idea  of 
truth.  We  should  present  to  the  child's  observa- 
tion and  faith  the  highest  ideals  of  emotion  and 
motive  in  our  power,  that  his  conceptions  of  love, 
truth,  and  goodness  may  be  clear  and  vivid,  and 
associated  with  sympathetic  happiness. 

We  should  carry  out  the  plan  of  nature  in 
connecting  suffering  with  wrong-doing,  and  happi- 
ness with  right  doing.  We  must  impart  the 
knowledge  of  moral  law  through  the  natural 
penalties  of  breaking  it,  or  the  natural  rewards  of 
keeping  it.  We  must  learn  of  nature  to  let 
retributions  fall  in  the  channel  of  wrong  action,  — 
to  make  them  of  a  kind  with  it,  so  that  they  shall 
become  a  part  of  the  idea  of  right  and  wrong  by 
association.  We  must  make  the  soul's  function 
of  obedience  to  its  instinctively  recognized 
authority  as  nearly  automatic  as  possible  through 
unwavering  habit  in  the  earliest  and  most  pliable 
period  of  existence.  When  the  authority  becomes 
consciously  a  divine  one,  it  will  supplement  and 
finally  supplant  all  others.  As  soon  as  the  young 


SCIENCE    OF  PRIMARY   TEACHING.  225 

soul  reaches  the  stage  of  self-consciousness,  we 
should  recognize  the  conscience  as  a  divine 
authority  for  it,  and  appeal  to  it  in  all  cases  for 
the  plan  of  thought,  feeling,  word,  or  action. 
We  should  lead  the  child  to  utter  obedience  to 
the  rule  of  conscience,  remembering  that  a  vague 
treatment  of  the  demands  cf  conscience  produces 
a  vague  image  of  right  and  wrong,  and  thus  de- 
grades the  soul.  Conscience  will  soon  answer 
these  appeals,  and  anticipate  them  by  acting 
spontaneously  upon  all  the  child's  moral  relations 
as  they  come  within  his  recognition  :  the  relation 
to  parent,  teacher,  and  companion,  to  itself,  and 
to  God.  -  Thus  his  connections  with  his  fellows 
will  be  rightly  adjusted,  his  connections  with  his 
Eternal  Father  will  be  more  and  more  compre- 
hended and  made  closer,  and  the  just  rule  of 
moral  responsibility  will  be  attained  through  the 
exercise  and  development  of  conscience. 

The  teacher  can  also  work  in  the  realm  of  the 
natural  passions  and  emotions,  bringing  motive 
and  intelligence  to  their  control.  The  excess  of 
either  can  be  shown  to  the  child  in  its  brute 
manifestations,  that  he  may  associate  their  un- 
control  with  horror,  and  understand  to  what 


226     HO IV  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

degradation  it  leads,  and  with  what  creatures  the 
unrestrained  exercise  of  the  passion  would  ally 
him  ;  he  can  be  led  to  think  back  from  the  plain 
tendency  of  self-indulgence,  of  intemperance,  of 
selfishness,  of  covetousness,  of  greed  and  anger, 
of  violence  and  brutishness,  by  examples  of  human 
beings  who  have  followed  bad  tendencies  until 
they  are  slaves  of  their  passions  and  cannot  escape 
from  the  power  of  sin.  The  certainty  of  loss  of 
power  over  our  bad  impulses  by  yielding  to  them 
should  be  made  very  forcible  to  children,  so  as  to 
act  as  a  constant  safeguard,  and  the  acquired 
power  of  self-control  which  follows  the  exercise  of 
it  should  be  made  a  constant  incentive  to  right 
action. 

As  soon  as  the  child  begins  to  inquire, — as  he 
surely  does  when  the  ideas  gained  through  sense- 
perception  begin  to  accumulate,  —  of  the  origin 
and  sustenance  of  all  things,  the  image  of  one 
universal  Creator  and  Sustainer  should  be  pre- 
sented to  his  consciousness  ;  his  own  individual 
connection  with  this  Being  by  instant  dependence 
of  life  should  be  associated  immediately  with  this 
image.  This  spiritual  Personality  he  will  invest 
with  the  most  attractive  ideas  and  attributes 


SCIENCE    OF  PRIMARY   TEACHING.  22/ 

within  his  knowledge,  and  his  love  and  reverence 
will  be  aroused  by  this  association.  His  spiritual 
consciousness,  as  well  as  his  mental  perception 
and  intuitive  ideas  of  causation,  will  make  this 
idea  a  reality  to  him  ;  let  no  profane  teacher 
introduce  a  doubt  into  his  consciousness ;  it  is 
the  atmosphere  of  his  soul,  and  must  be  responded 
to  by  the  teacher ;  it  will  guide  him  in  the  choice 
of  truth,  in  the  selection  and  assimilation  of  soul- 
nourishment,  until  it  defines  and  controls  his  re- 
lations with  all  conscious  and  unconscious  being. 

A  candid  study  of  the  normal  development  of 
the  child-nature  must  confirm  the  actuality  of 
this  ever-present  soul-image.  The  faithful  and 
sufficient  teacher  will  seek  to  minister  to  its 
demands  as  uniformly,  consistently,  and  con- 
scientiously as  to  the  needs  of  mind  and  body. 
To  work  in  the  full  light  of  psychological  princi- 
ples involves  the  attempt  to  develop  and  train 
the  senses  of  the  soul  which  connect  the  human 
being  with  its  eternal  relationships.  The  soul- 
faculties  come  within  the  legitimate  scope  of  the 
teacher's  work,  and  form  the  highest  factor  in  the 
process  of  education.  No  unhappiness,  no  dread, 
no  fear  should  enter  into  the  imase  of  the  divine 


228      HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

Personality  through  the  abnormal  conceptions  of 
the  teacher  ;  no  uncertainty  of  moral  convictions, 
no  doubt  of  religious  perceptions,  no  unnatural 
impersonality  should  be  offered  by  the  teacher  to 
blur  the  image  which  has  been  formed  in  the 
soul ;  no  obstacle  should  be  thrust  in  the  way  of 
the  child's  religious  progress.  No  secondary 
cause  or  medium  of  operation,  as  law  of  method 
or  result,  should  usurp  the  throne  or  divide  the 
power  or  obliterate  the  outline  of  the  omnipresent 
Personality  in  all  His  works  and  in  all  His  ways, 
the  expression  of  His  uniform  methods  acting 
upon  all  His  material  and  immaterial  creation. 
Pain  and  pleasure,  all  the  experiences  of  con- 
sciousness, should  add  and  accumulate  force  to 
the  moral  and  religious  perceptions,  and  to  the 
distinctness  and  completeness  of  the  image 
formed  by  the  soul.  We  must  build  into  the 
child's  mind  a  desire  and  determination  for  truth, 
purity,  love,  and  obedience  to  conscience,  and 
produce  as  clear  and  attractive  conceptions  of 
these  attributes  as  possible.  We  must  answer  by 
sympathetic  suggestion  all  the  questions  which 
arise  in  his  soul  in  connection  with  these  con- 
ceptions and  his  intuitions.  We  must  never  fail 


SCIENCE   OF  PRIMARY   TEACHING.  22Q 

in  candor,  never  make  compromises  with  truth 
while  acknowledging  the  limitations  of  human 
perception,  which,  though  it  will  not  mislead, 
must  often  prevent  the  perfect  apprehension  of 
spiritual  truth.  We  must  encourage  the  expec- 
tant attitude  of  the  soul  toward  the  solutions  of  a 
larger  experience  and  more  complete  obedience, 
and  the  revelations  of  eternity.  We  must  teach 
faith  in  the  soul's  convictions  at  every  stage  of  its 
progress,  faith  in  the  integrity  of  God's  expressions 
through  the  laws  and  operations  of  nature  and 
their  analogy  to  spiritual  life  by  reason  of  the 
harmony  of  God's  plans  ;  and  we  must  inculcate 
an  utter  trust  in  the  unchangeable  relations  of 
the  soul  with  its  Maker.  We  must  enlarge  and 
not  cramp  the  activities  of  the  soul,  combining 
them  with  all  other  activities  so  that  there  shall 
be  no  morbid  or  disproportionate  development, 
but  so  that  harmony  of  being  shall  produce  happi- 
ness and  health,  and  tend  to  the  rectification  of 
all  errors  of  thought,  feeling,  or  action. 

In  the  whole  work  of  teaching,  —  not  excepting 
but,  on  the  contrary,  emphasizing,  the  earlier 
period,  —  the  development  and  strengthening  of 
the  moral  powers,  the  evolution  of  a  dominant 


HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

and  permeating  spirit  of  truth,  purity,  reverence, 
and  love,  the  building  up  of  the  character,  the 
nourishment  of  the  soul,  should  be  the  highest 
object,  because  the  supreme  and  immortal  germ 
of  human  life.  . 

V. 

THE  training  of  the  will  is  secondary  in  impor- 
tance only  to  the  training  of  the  soul.  It  is  the 
agent  of  the  mind  and  soul,  and  must  be  able  at 
their  call  to  control  the  appetites,  the  passions, 
conduct,  and  desires,  as  well  as  to  direct  the 
muscles,  the  senses,  and  the  thought.  It  there- 
fore constructs  the  mental  and  moral  habit,  which 
at  last  determines  the  quality  and  destiny  of  the 
immortal  being.  Force  of  will  is  indispensable  to 
strength  of  character  or  effectiveness  of  intellect, 
and,  in  a  great  measure,  to  the  healthful  activity 
of  the  physical  functions.  It  is  yet  an  unsettled 
problem  how  far  the  condition  of  the  body  is 
dependent  on  the  will,  but  the  tendency  of  hygi- 
enic science  emphasizes  that  dependence  more 
and  more.  An  attractive  and  promising  youth 
often  comes  to  a  barren  maturity  through  an  un- 
developed will,  and  again  an  undisciplined  will 


SCIENCE   OF  PRIMARY   TEACHING.  23! 

often  leads  to  self-destruction  ;  in  either  case  the 
failure  to  educate  and  train  the  will  makes  a  fail- 
ure of  life  itself. 

A  culture  of  the  will  is  a  necessity  of  right  cul- 
ture for  body,  mind,  and  soul.  It  must  be  re- 
membered that  the  fundamental  law  of  growth  by 
exercise  is  as  applicable  to  the  will  as  to  any  other 
power  of  man  or  nature.  The  will  must  be  kept 
active  in  the  child  by  leading  him  to  determine 
and  work  for  himself.  If  he  is  driven  blindly  to 
the  accomplishment  of  the  task  set  for  him,  he  will 
never  develop  the  power  to  set  tasks  for  himself 
and  put  himself  to  work,  which  is  his  only  chance 
for  real  achievement  of  either  power  or  result. 
Give  motive  and  stimulus  sufficient  to  arouse  the 
will  until  it  commands  the  faculties  successfully. 
It  is  immediate,  clear,  and  decisive  action  which 
best  defines  the  mental  and  moral  ideas,  executes 
their  purposes,  and  evolves  the  will-power.  In- 
decision, postponement,  and  evasion  make  the  will 
weak  and  gradually  powerless  to  control  the  ac- 
tivities. Children  should  not  be  advised  when 
they  are  competent  to  advise  themselves,  but 
thrown  upon  their  own  resources  for  determina- 
tion of  aim  and  means  as  far  as  possible. 


232       HOW  SHALL   MY   CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

child  who  prefers  to  have  questions  of  conduct  or 
thought  decided  for  him,  who  always  asks  to  be 
told  what  to  do,  and  how  and  when  to  do  it, 
should  be  denied  all  such  help  where  he  has  the 
means  of  judging  and  acting  without  it.  A  habit 
of  promptness  in  decision  and  action  is  a  great 
step  in  the  education  of  the  will.  The  psycho- 
logic Liw  that  habit  tends  to  automatic  action  is  as 
applicable  to  the  will  as  to  the  mind  or  body ;  this 
law  may  be  presented  and  illustrated  so  as  to 
become  a  most  effectual  incentive  to  the  right 
exercise  of  the  will  in  directing  and  controlling  all 
the  faculties.  This  automatic  tendency  is  the  key 
to  destiny,  for  by  its  law  habit  becomes  fixed  in  an 
-unchangeable  state  of  mind  and  character  which 
even  desire  has  no  power  to  prevent  or  terminate, 
and  the  man  becomes  the  victim  of  his  unregu- 
lated or  feeble  will. 

The  right  development  of  the  will  must  be  the 
constant  aim  of  the  teacher,  as  it  is  the  greatest 
hope  for  attainment  of  either  intellect  or  char- 
acter. If  there  is  but  a  feeble  will-power,  the 
effort  of  the  teacher  at  first  must  be  mainly 
toward  the  strengthening  of  it.  If  it  is  accessible 
by  the  stimulus  of  interest  and  desire,  by  all 


SCIENCE    OF  PRIMARY    TEACHING.  233 

means  attack  it  in  that  direction  and  through  the 
safest  channels ;  but,  if  necessary,  develop  it  by 
the  spur  of  antagonism  and  resistance,  as  Nature 
so  often  does.  When  we  see  the  waif  cast  upon 
the  selfish  world,  righting  his  defenceless  way  to 
manhood,  we  may  abate  soin^  of  our  pity  as  we 
observe  how  Nature  is  training  it  by  struggle  and 
adversity  to  strength  and  victory  over  the  adverse 
world  and  its  own  rude  material,  so  that  he  may, 
by  the  force  of  his  developed  will,  win  the  position 
to  which  the  most  cultured  look  with  envy. 

When  we  see  the  cuffs  and  abuses,  the  conflicts 
and  mercilessness  of  the  boys  who  meet  in  the 
streets  and  the  schools,  we  wonder  why  Nature 
seems  to  treat  them  so  roughly ;  but  we  must 
believe  that  all  the  instincts  are  wisely  given  and 
for  purposes  of  training,  and  that  they  need  only 
to  be  subordinated  to  reason  and  conscience,  — 
not  to  be  crushed  or  obliterated.  Pugnacity,  so 
natural  to  the  boy,  and  so  developed  in  one  who 
has  only  himself  to  rely  upon,  is  a  valuable  stimu- 
lant to  the  will ;  and  even  fighting  is  beneficial  to 
arouse  -decision  and  tenacity  of  conviction,  and  to 
develop  that  force  of  struggle,  of  resistance,  of 
determination  and  energy,  so  essential  for  the 


234      nOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

rectification  of  wrong  habits  and  the  acquisition  of 
right  ones ;  and,  when  the  contest  is  defensive 
and  necessary  to  self-respect,  or  to  the  champion- 
ship of  men  or  principles  whose  cause  is  just,  it 
should  not  be  prevented  or  discouraged.  The 
pugnacious  or  combative  instinct  has  been  the 
lever  with  which  Nature  has  lifted  many  an  other- 
wise untrained  human  being  into  strong  and  com- 
plete manhood. 

Taste  in  all  its  applications  and  manifestations 
may  be  cultivated  through  every  period  and  phase 
of  education.  Facility  for  true  and  beautiful 
expression  in  language,  manners,  and  art  may  be 
the  object  of  education  from  the  first ;  all  the 
child's  plays  and  enjoyments  offer  a  field  for  the 
exercise  of  such  facility.  Forms  and  qualities  of 
beauty  may  be  constantly  pointed  out  to  him,  the 
best  models  may  surround  him,  and  his  apprecia- 
tion of  true  standards  be  developed.  Efforts  of 
expression,  however  crude,  should  be  encouraged  ; 
improvements  always  aimed  at,  although  not  to 
the  point  of  discouragement.  The  outward  should 
express  the  inward  in  the  most  attractive  forms 
possible  to  the  child's  conception.  When  an 
utterly  itrue  and  spontaneous  blossoming  of  a 


SCIENCE   OF  PRIMARY   TEACHING.  23$ 

beautiful  thought  or  feeling  occurs,  as  it  some- 
times does  in  a  child's  progressive  achievement  as 
the  harmonious  result  of  mental  or  moral  habit, 
the  outlook  of  a  mind  and  soul  in  free  and  joyous 
activity,  then  an  idea  of  reverence  for  it  as  a 
revelation  of  God  should  be  associated  with  it,  and 
the  consciousness  of  inspiration  be  recognized  by 
the  child. 

It  is  the  whole  human  organism,  in  all  its 
powers,  connections,  and  aims,  which  is  the 
material  of  the  work  of  teaching ;  and  every  ele- 
ment should  hold  in  the  effort  of  the  teacher  its 
rightly  adjusted  and  proportionate  place  from  the 
earliest  period  of  education.  Sympathy,  —  not 
indifference,  antagonism,  or  hostility,  —  should  be 
the  medium  of  the  teacher's  influence.  Desire 
for  the  pupil's  advancement  will  awaken  desire  in 
him  for  that  end,  courage  arouse  courage,  deter- 
mination evoke  determination  ;  joy  in  the  teach- 
er's heart  will  communicate  its  stimulus  and  lead 
to  victory ;  enthusiasm  will  kindle  enthusiasm  and 
create  a  vital  atmosphere  in  which  the  child's 
being  expands  almost  unconsciously.  Intelligence 
should  precede  memory ;  imagination  should  ac- 
company recollection ;  Nature  never  set  a  child 


236      HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

to  learn  by  rote  ;  those  things  which  must  finally 
be  subjected  to  an  act  of  memory  should  be 
approached  as  a  discovery,  as  the  symbol  of  ideas. 
Respect  for  the  common-sense  of  mankind,  faith 
in  its  formulated  experiences,  will  grow  out  of  an 
intelligent  attention  to  results  of  thought  and 
conduct,  until  rules  of  science,  codes  of  morals, 
maxims  of  conduct,  will  be  accepted  as  guides  for 
action. 

The  written  statement  of  the  results  of  observa- 
tion, of  the  spontaneous  course  of  thought,  of  the 
deductions  of  reason,  of  the  play  of  imagination, 
should  often  be  called  for  by  the  teacher  ;  this 
practice  will  lead  up  to  an  appreciation  of  the 
value  of  books  as  the  statements  of  experts  ;  it 
will  also  encourage  individual  expression  arid  a 
respect  for  the  claims  of  the  individual  being, 
which  should  be  a  fundamental  principle  for  the 
teacher:  the  school  for  tJie  child,  —  not  the  child 
for  the  school.  Lead  the  child  to  correct  his 
independence  by  the  claims  of  social  obligation 
and  civil  order,  but,  nevertheless,  to  rest  in  his 
own  personality,  to  become  free  in  the  movements 
of  his  own  mind  and  soul,  while  conscience  and 
reason  show  him  how  to  hinder  no  other  individu- 


SCIENCE   OF  PRIMARY  TEACHING. 

ality.  Lead  him  to  find  and  use  his  own  material 
for  physical,  mental,  and  moral  growth  ;  to  adopt 
laws  for  himself  and  obey  them.  Train  him  to 
study  and  act  for  himself,  and  for  ends  he  himself 
has  fixed ;  and  finally,  to  "  get  his  own  living," 
both  mortal  and  immortal. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

PARABLES. LAWS      OF      NATURE     AND      LIFE,     OR 

SCIENCE    APPLIED    TO   CHARACTER. 

• 

"For  the  invisible  things   of    Him  from  the  creation   of  the  world  are  clearly 
seen,  being  understood  from  the  things  that  are  made."  —  Romans,  i.  20. 

PARABLE   I. 

IN  the  springtime  of  the  year  I  went  out  into 
the  fields.  The  farmers  were*  sowing  seed  of 
corn,  of  wheat,  of  oats,  and  of  rye.  They  selected 
the  seed  with  care,  planting  each  kind  in  its  own 
field 

In  the  autumn  I  went  again  to  the  fields,  and, 
behold  !  the  waving  corn  covered  the  ground  where 
corn  was  sown,  and  wheat  nodded  over  the  acres 
where  the  wheat-seed  had  been  dropped  ;  the  rye 
and  the  oats  had  not  disappointed  the  farmer, 
but  had  sprung  up  from  the  carefully  selected 
seed  just  as  he  had  determined  ;  that  which  he 
had  planted  stood  ready  for  the  reaper,  and  no 
mistake  had  been  made. 

9 

Then  I  looked  at    my   young   children    in    the 
238 


PARABLES,  239 

springtime  of  life,  and  I  said,  "  We  must  select 
the  seed  of  thought  and  feeling,  of  study  and 
conduct,  with  the  greatest  care.  We  must  sow 
the  seed  of  unselfish  desires,  pure  feelings,  right 
motives,  and  high  thoughts,  so  that  good  actions, 
pure  hearts,  and  right  conduct  shall  spring  up  in 
their  lives ;  so  that  sweet  manners,  beautiful 
characters,  and  lovely  souls  shall  bloom  and 
ripen  in  these  life-fields,  and  a  harvest  of  good 
and  noble  men  and  women  may  be  made  fit  for 
immortality.  Let  us  make  no  mistake  in  our 
seed-sowing,  for  we  find  this  to  be  one  of  God's 
eternal  laws  :  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth  that  shall 
he  reap*. 

PARABLE    II. 

I  often  walked  near  the  fields  while  the  summer 
came  on  and  the  young  corn  was  growing.  I 
saw  the  farmer  work  early  and  late  in  his  fields 
to  loosen  the  soil,  to  cast  out  the  weeds,  and  to 
guard  against  all  manner  of  danger.  I  saw  how 
diligent  he  must  be  in  his  business,  watching  and 
working  and  waiting,  lest  the  harvest  should  be  a 
poor  one,  and  he  should  lose  his  labor  ;  so  I  knew 
that  constant  and  faithful  effort  is  necessary  to 


240       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

success.  Then  I  longed  to  see  the  children  ear- 
nest and  diligent,  industrious  and  careful,  both  in 
their  study  and  in  their  behavior ;  for  the  fields  of 
the  mind  and  the  heart  planted  with  the  precious 
seeds  of  knowledge  and  virtue  need  even  more 
care  than  fields  of  corn,  to  keep  out  the  weeds  of 
wrong-doing  and  forgetfulness  and  laziness,  lest 
the  harvest  of  manhood  and  womanhood  prove 
poor  and  worthless,  and  the  promise  of  youth  be 
destroyed. 

For  I  knew  it  to  be  one  of  God's  eternal  laws, 
both  of  nature  and  life,  that  watchfulness  and  dili- 
gence are  necessary  to  success. 

PARABLE    OF    SOLOMON. 

I  went  by  the  field  of  the  slothful,  and  by  the 
vineyard  of  the  man  void  of  understanding,  and  lo  ! 
it  was  all  grown  over  with  thorns,  and  nettles  had 
covered  the  face  thereof,  and  the  stone  wall  thereof 
was  broken  down.  Then  I  saw  and  considered  it 
well ;  I  looked  upon  it  and  received  instruction. 

Yet  a  little  sleep  and  a  little  slumber  and  a 
little  folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep,  so  shall  thy 
poverty  come  as  one  that  travaileth  and  thy  want 
as  an  armed  man. 


PARABLES.  241 

PARABLE    III. 

I  held  a  little  brown  flax-seed  in  my  fingers. 
I  dropped  it  on  the  surface  of  the  water  in  my 
glass,  upheld  by  a  thin  layer  of  cotton-wool.  In  a 
few  days  white  threads  descended  into  the  water 
from  that  little  seed,  and  a  green  shoot  rose  into 
the  air.  Delicate  leaves  unfolded  above  and  the 
threads  below  became  a  silky  tassel  of  roots. 
The  pretty  plant  grew  and  throve.  Day  by  day 
the  leaves  opened  more  and  more.  Buds  and 
lovely  blue  flowers  appeared,  and  as  the  sun 
shone  in  my  window  upon  the  growing  plant, 
seeds  were  born  and  ripened  and  the  wonder  was 
multiplied.  All  had  gone  on  by  degrees.  Step  by 
step,  cell  by  cell,  it  had  been  built  up,  and  bud  and 
flower  and  fruit  had  come  in  due  course.  So  I 
knew  what  to  expect  in  my  little  human  plants. 
Not  the  ripe  seed  all  at  once ;  not  the  perfect 
conduct  nor  the  whole  lesson  at  the  first  trial ;  but 
slowly,  one  by  one,  thought  by  thought,  effort  by 
effort,  the  mind  and  heart  will  grow.  Surely  but 
gradually,  day  after  day  and  year  after  year,  the 
child  will  learn  and  become  wise  and  good  ;  for 
this  is  God's  eternal  law,  that  all  tilings  grow 
gradually  in  good  order,  from  less  to  more. 


242       HO W  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 
PARABLE    OF    JESUS. 

So  is  the  kingdom  of  God,  as  if  a  man  should 
cast  seed  into  the  ground,  and  should  sleep  and 
rise,  night  and  day,  and  the  seed  should  spring 
and  grow  up,  he  knoweth  not  how.  For  the 
earth  bringeth  forth  fruit  of  herself ;  first  the 
blade,  then  the  ear,  after  that  the  full  corn  in  the 
ear.  —  [  Mark,  iv.  26-29.] 

PARABLE  IV. 

A  pretty  silvery  fish  lived  in  a  great  cave.  He 
swam  in  a  silent  pool  within  its  dark  recesses. 
One  day  travellers  visited  the  cave  with  flaring 
torches.  The  beautiful  lights  glanced  from 
pearly  wall  and  pillar ;  stalactite  and  stalagmite 
sparkled  with  prismatic  rays  ;  crystals  flashed  like 
precious  stones  above  and  around.  The  little 
fish  swam  on,  all  undisturbed  ;  he  saw  nothing  of 
all  this  radiance,  for  he  had  no  eyes.  The  travel- 
lers examined  the  pretty  fish.  "Alas!"  they 
said,  "he  has  lived  so  long  in  the  darkness  that 
his  eyes  have  gone  out.  They  have  disappeared 
for  want  of  use,  and  only  a  scar  remains."  What 
is  not  used  is  lost.  This  I  find  to  be  an  eternal 
law  of  Nature, 


PARABLES.  243 

So  the  child  who  does  not  use  his  mind- 
eyes,  who  does  not  observe  and  think  and  learn, 
will  grow  blind-minded.  His  bright  powers  will 
become  dull.  He  will  never  be  able  to  see  all 
the  beauty  and  wonder  of  the  universe,  because 
he  has  lost  those  eyes  of  the  mind  and  soul  which 
God  gave  him  with  which  to  perceive  goodness 
and  truth.  He  will  become  like  the  eyeless  fish, 
dark  and  unknowing  amid  all  the  glowing  beauty 
about  him,  with  only  a  dead  scar  to  show  his 
unused  faculty.  Poor  little  sightless  mind  that 
would  not  use  its  eyes  of  thought !  What  is  not 
used  dies  at  last. 

PARABLE  V. 

One  day  as  I  stood  by  the  sea,  a 
glorious  insects  filled  the  air ;  they  were 
a  tiny  steel-blue  needle,  darting  through  the 
shine;  their  wings  were  like  silver  tissue,  their 
eyes  like  globes  of  light ;  I  wondered  whence 
they  came. 

Then  a  naturalist  pointed  out  to  me  a  muddy 
pool,  and  on  the  dull  bottom  I  saw  some  brown, 
scrawny  beetles,  moving  slowly  by  jerks  through 
the  thick  water.  "These,"  he  said,  "will  all 


244       HOW  SHALL    MY  CHILD   />7<;    TAl\;UT? 

become  dragon-flies,  the  beautiful  creatures  you 
see  flying  on  high ;  hidden  within  each  scaly 
form  below  is  a  folded  germ  which  shall  one  day 
burst  the  shell  and  come  forth  into  the  air  in  all 
its  beauty,  to  float  o'er  land  and  sea  in  light  and 
glory." 

Now,  when  the  children  are  dull  and  stupid,  or 
rude  and  naughty,  and  seem  to  choose  the  dark 
bottom  of  ignorance  and  evil,  I  comfort  myself 
with  the  idea  of  the  folded  soul  within  them,  like 
the  dragon-flies  in  the  beetles,  hoping  it  will 
grow  within  them.  I  would  not  have  them  do  or 
think  aught  to  mar  those  gauzy  wings  and  far- 
seeing  eyes  of  the  soul  that  wait  to  burst  forth 
into  light  and  purity.  I  fear  lest  they  should  put 
out  one  single  globe  of  those  great  hundred-fold 
soul-eyes.  "  Oh,"  I  say,  "  dear  children,  drive 
out  of  your  hearts  all  bad  thoughts,  all  selfish 
feelings,  and  do  not  harm  that  beautiful  folded 
thing  within  you  that  is  waiting  to  escape,  for  it 
is  your  soul,  and  '  what  shall  a  man  give  in 
exchange  for  his  soul  ? ' ' 


PARABLES.  245 

PARABLE  VI. 

I  saw,  too,  in  regard  to  the  beetles  of  the 
dragon-flies,  that  they  did  not  need  to  attend  to 
how  the  germ  within  them  should  grow  ;  they 
had  only  to  act  as  beetles  and  do  what  they  were 
fitted  to  do  in  the  muddy  pond.  God  took  care 
that  all  should  come  out  right  about  the  dragon- 
fly, if  only  the  beetle  took  care  of  his  work  as  a 
beetle. 

So  I  saw  that  the  children  had  only  to  do  what 
is  right  for  children,  in  children's  places  and  by 
children's  ways.  God  will  take  care  for  the  un- 
folding of  the  wings  of  the  great  many-eyed  soul, 
if  only  the  children  do  as  they  are  bid  and  behave 
as  well  as  they  can  ;  for  God  does  His  work  for  us 
while  we  are  doing  ours  for  Him. 

PARABLE    OF    PAUL. 

That  which  thau  sowest  is  not  quickened, 
except  it  die  ;  and  that  which  thou  sowest,  thou 
sowest  not  that  body  which  shall  be,  but  bare 
grain,  it  may  chance  of  wheat,  or  of  some  other 
grain ;  but  God  giveth  it  a  body  as  it  hath  pleased 
Him,  and  to  every  seed  its  own  body. 


246       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

So  is  also  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  It  is 
sown  in  corruption,  it  is  raised  in  incorruption  ;  it 
is  sown  in  dishonor,  it  is  raised  in  glory ;  it  is 
sown  in  weakness,  it  is  raised  in  power ;  it  is 
sown  a  natural  body,  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body. 
—  [i  Corinthians,  xv.  j6.] 

PARABLE  VII. 

I  heard  a  man  say  that  the  baby  was  dead  and 
would  never  know  anything  again.  I  could  not 
believe  it,  for  I  saw  the  corn  growing  out  of  the 
quiet  seeds, —  a  new  life  out  of  the  old  ;  I  saw 
the  dragon-fly  which  broke  forth  from  the  dead 
grub-case  where  it  had  been  hidden  during  the 
grub's  life;  I  also  saw  the  butterfly  spread  its 
wings  from  the  lifeless  chrysalis  ;  and  so  I  was 
sure  that  the  dead  should  come  to  life,  perhaps  to 
a  different  life,  a  more  beautiful  life,  with  new 
and  more  perfect  bodies  of  which  we  cannot 
conceive  now ;  but  of  this  I  am  sure,  that  the 
truths  of  God  in  nature  are  but  pictures  or  images 
of  His  truth  in  the  unseen  universe,  and  the 
butterfly  is  God's  word  for  Resurrection. 

"For  the  dead  shall  be  raised  incorruptible, 
and  we  shall  be  changed.'*  "As  we  have  borne 


PARABLES.  247 

the  image  of  the  earthy,  we  shall"  also  bear  the 
image  of  the  heavenly." 

PARABLE  VIII. 

I  sat  by  the  rock  at  the  sea-shore,  and,  as  I 
picked  up  the  pretty  pebbles  and  looked  on  the 
huge  cliffs,  I  said  to  myself :  They  are  strong  and 
good,  nevertheless  they  are  broken  by  the  waves, 
nor  can  they  grow  and  renew  themselves  like  the 
cedar,  or  even  the  little  pimpernel  that  opens  its 
blood-red  eye  amid  the  sands.  The  flower  and  the 
tree  have  a  higher  nature  than  the  rocks,  for  they 
grow  and  leave  seed  to  grow  again,  and  have  an 
enduring  wholeness  and  pattern  of  their  own 
which  is  forever  born  again,  while  the  cliff  breaks 
into  rocks,  the  rocks  are  rolled  into  pebbles,  and 
the  pebbles  are  washed  into  sand,  so  that  instead 
of  growth  is  separation,  disintegration  for  unity, 
destruction  rather  than  life. 

But  a  voice  came  to  me  from  the  pimpernel 
and  the  cedar,  saying  :  "The  sand  and  the  pebble 
and  the  rock  may  also  become  as  we  if  they  will 
take  hold  of  our  helping  hands  ;  for  that  are  we 
sent  to  them.  We  call  them  through  every  little 
pore  and  cell,  and  reach  down  to  them  by  every 


248     HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

root  and  fibre ;  they  may  climb  by  our  strong, 
clasping  roots,  or  creep  up  by  our  tender  rootlets 
as  by  a  ladder  •  they  may  take  hold  of  the  cedar's 
grappling  arms  and  yield  up  their  mineral  parti- 
cles till  they  are  lifted  into  the  plant-life  by 
giving  of  their  strength  to  its  growth;  then  will 
they  be  transformed  into  beauty  and  wholeness; 
the  crumbling  stones  will  be  built  into  ever- 
renewing  structures  of  fruitful  growth.  From 
the  mineral  kingdom  they  are  born  into  the  vege- 
table kingdom,  because  they  took  the  offered 
hand  of  the  plant  which  reached  down  to  them 
from  above  ;  for  all  things  that  will  receive  kelp 
from  above  are  lifted  up  and  born  again  into  a 
higher  kind  of  life. 

So  I  thought  it  may  be  with  the  children. 
Teachers  and  books,  parents  and  friends,  beautiful 
nature,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  all  reach  down  and 
offer  their  helping  hands  to  the  children,  like 
roots  from  a  higher  and  more  perfect  life.  If  the 
children  will  take  hold  of  all  these  helping  hands, 
these  pure  and  inviting  thoughts  and  studies,  and 
offer  their  prayers  to  the  Holy  Spirit,  letting 
their  desires  and  efforts  respond  to  all  good 
influences,  they  grasp  hold  of  hands  which  shall 


PARABLES.  249 

lift  them  up,  they  climb  by  the  roots  of  a  higher 
nature,  they  rise  from  a  lower  into  a  higher  king- 
dom. 

For  all  who  will  ask  and  try  may  ascend  and 
be  born  again  into  a  nobler  life.  "Ask  and  ye 
sliall  receive,  seek  and  ye  shall  find,  knock  and  it 
shall  be  opened  unto  you." 


PARABLE  IX. 

My  little  daughter  brought  in  beautiful  white 
lilies  from  the  garden,  and  placed  them  in  a  vase 
before  me  ;  Day  lilies  and  Japanese  lilies,  exquisite 
and  pure  in  their  loveliness. 

And  when  I  had  observed  their  delicious  fra- 
grance, their  graceful  outlines,  and  their  queenly 
beauty,  I  examined  them  more  carefully,  to  see 
how  they  were  made. 

Then  I  found  that  all  the  parts  were  arranged 
in  a  most  orderly  and  regular  way,  and  that  each 
flower  was  made  exactly  according  to  the 
pattern.  The  flower  was  in  threes :  the  petals 
three,  the  sepals  three,  the  stamens  six,  and  the 
stigma  in  three  divisions.  Its  construction  was 
orderly,  harmonious,  and  symmetrical,  as  is  every 


250      HOW  StIALL  AfY  CHILD  BE   TAUGHT! 

work  of  God.  Order  and  harmony  are  laws  of 
God  in  Nature  ;  so  must  they  be  in  life. 

I  noticed  especially  in  the  Japanese  lily  the 
anthers  vibrating  on  the  stamens  so  delicately 
poised,  and  on  examination  I  perceived  a  purpose 
and  design  in  this  beautiful  contrivance ;  it  was 
so  adjusted  that  the  pollen,  the  rich  brown  dust 
which  ripens  into  seeds  within  the  ovary,  might 
be  shaken  down  upon  the  sensitive  stigma  to  be 
received  into  the  ovary. 

Now  I  knew  that  all  God's  works  have  design 
and  purpose  in  their  adjustment.  Our  life,  as 
well  as  that  of  the  lily,  is  arranged  and  contrived 
for  a  useful  end  by  God,  who,  though  omnipotent, 
yet  deigns  to  form  the  lily  as  carefully  as  if  that 
were  His  only  work.  In  everything,  so  the  lily 
taught  me,  God  has  a  loving  purpose  and  a  wise 
design. 

PARABLE   X. 

"  Consider  the  lilies,  how  they  grow" 

I  saw  again  the  lovely  blossoms,  to  study  them 
still  more,  for  they  were  full  of  God's  lessons.  I 
saw  the  like  parts  to  be  opposite  and  to  corre- 
spond ;  I  saw  that,  though  distinct  from  each 


PARABLES.  2$  I 

other,  they  were  in  a  manner  together  and  united. 
The  flower  was  a  union  of  opposites,  and  much  of 
its  order  and  beauty  was  owing  to  this  union  of 
opposites. 

So  I  learned  that  all  unities  are  made  up  of  dis- 
tinct parts,  and  that  the  most  beautiful  thing,  or 
unity,  is  the  harmony  or  reconciliation  of  oppo- 
sites ;  and  I  was  glad  to  think  that  the  human 
soul,  which  sometimes  seems  so  far  from  God,  may 
also  be  reconciled  to  Him,  and,  like  the  flower, 
produce  a  beautiful  union,  a  harmony  of  opposites. 
I  learned  that  all  that  seems  discordant,  separate, 
or  opposite  in  life,  —  as,  for  example,  good  and 
evil,  love  and  hate,  pain  and  pleasure,  suffering 
and  joy,  —  may  be  reconciled  to  each  other,  and, 
by  their  union,  produce  the  most  beautiful  and 
perfect  life. 

This  is  a  hard  saying,  but  it  is  the  law  of  God, 
in  nature  and  in  life,  that  the  most  perfect  union 
is  the  reconciliation  of  opposites  ;  so  I  taught  the 
children  to  look  for  that  union  in  nature,  and  to 
seek  it  in  life,  for  it  is  the  fulfilment  of  God's  eter- 
nal law. 

Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law. 


252       HO W  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

PARABLE    XI. 

I  walked  with  a  geologist  through  a  mountain 
region  ;  great  granite  hills  were  piled  up  to  the 
sky ;  the  surface  of  their  rocky  slopes  was  covered 
with  trees  and  shrubs,  leaves  and  flowers ;  the 
crumbling  outside  had  been  converted  into  all  this 
beautiful  verdure  and  vegetable  life.  We  often 
struck  a  bowlder  with  the  hammer  and  saw  its 
veins  of  mineral  which  furnished  material  for  the 
glorious  forests  that  garlanded  the  mountain- 
chain.  At  last  my  friend,  by  the  blow  of  his 
hammer,  revealed  a  beautiful  gem  hidden  in  the 
heart  of  the  granite.  "  Here  it  is  !  "  he  said,  and 
handed  me  the  crystal.  All  its  sides  were  per- 
fect ;  its  form  a  miracle  of  geometric  perfection  ; 
its  clearness  and  glowing  lustre  like  the  very  soul 
of  light  and  glory. 

Then  it  flashed  upon  my  mind  that  the  heart  of 
the  bowlder  was  so  far  from  any  opportunity  to 
grow  from  the  outside  into  the  beautiful  plant-life, 
it  was  so  deeply  hidden  and  shut  up  to  itself,  that 
all  its  energies  had  to  work  inward,  and  had  con- 
centrated themselves  in  this  work  of  perfecting 
and  transfiguring  the  rock  until  it  had  become 
the  very  essence  of  light  and  beauty. 


PARABLES.  253 

Now,  why  should  I  suddenly  think  of  my  little 
darling  lame  and  sick  child,  alone  in  her  poor 
home,  shut  away  from  learning,  and  from  the 
pleasures  of  childhood,  helpless  and  inactive  as  to 
her  outward  life,  but  so  patient,  so  hopeful,  so 
sweet  and  trusting  and  loving  as  to  remind  me  of 
heaven  when  I  went  to  sit  down  by  her  bedside  ? 
Why  but  that  she  was  like  the  hidden  gem  whose 
forces,  not  being  able  to  reach  out  into  life,  had 
been  used  by  God  to  transfigure  her  soul  until  it 
shines  like  a  pure  and  perfect  jewel. 

Therefore  I  would  say  to  such  as  are  shut  out, 
—  by  poverty,  by  sickness,  by  circumstances, — • 
from  all  that  seems  like  growth  and  development, 
do  not  despair ;  God  will  make  it  up  to  you ;  all 
loss  and  trial  He  will  compensate  ;  your  unspent 
forces  may,  by  his  grace,  work  inward  upon  your 
soul,  to  make  it  perfect  in  symmetry  and  light  and 
beauty,  one  of  God's  hidden  and  precious  jewels. 

PARABLE   XII. 

I  had  travelled  from  day  to  day  through  the 
prairie-land  of  the  West.  I  had  seen  its  thousands 
of  acres  of  growing  grain  ;  I  had  visited  the  great 
granaries,  and  seen  the  stored  harvest ;  I  had 


HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

passed  by  the  beautiful  vineyards,  and  had  seen 
the  rich  fruitage  and  the  vats  of  purple  wine  from 
the  wine-press.  "  O  bountiful  nature ! "  I  ex- 
claimed, "bread  and  wine,  corn  and  fruit,  gold  and 
purple  wealth  of  the  rich  land  thou  dost  offer  to 
man  for  his  abundant  food." 

At  that  I  came  to  the  noisy  and  crowded  city, 
and  visited  the  exchange.  "  What  is  all  this  hot 
and  eager  traffic,  this  contention  and  shouting  ? " 
I  asked. 

"  It  is  buying  and  selling  ;  it  is  the  selfish  greed 
of  man  dealing  with  the  golden  grain." 

The  grain  waves  beautiful  still  upon  the  harvest- 
field,  or  is  heaped  up  in  bushels  of  shining  kernelsj 
in  its  granaries,  or  on  the  rail  cars  and  lake 
steamers  or  canal  boats  ;  this  is  its  voice  speaking 
through  the  passions  of  man,  and  it  is  the  voice  of 
mixed  good  and  evil,  a  discordant  and  warring  tone. 

I  saw,  also,  men  excited  or  helpless  by  using 
whiskey  or  wine,  men  who  seemed  changed  to 
demons,  drunken  and  bereft  of  manly  self-control, 
and  I  remembered  that  the  wine  and  the  whiskey 
were  also  the  fruit  of  the  grain  and  the  grape,  con- 
verted to  evil  uses  and  made  to  degrade  rather 
than  to  benefit  mankind. 


PARABLES.  255 

"Alas  !  "  I  said,  "good  may  be  changed  to  evil, 
right  to  wrong,  beauty  to  ugliness,  use  to  abuse, 
by  the  lust  and  passion  of  man.  The  tree  of  life 
which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  garden  of  earth  must 
also  be  to  man  the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of  good 
and  evil.  Forbidden  fruit  grows  in  the  most 
beautiful  of  Nature's  harvests,  good  and  evil  are 
on  the  same  branch,  and  a  man  must  choose 
between  them.  Each  of  us  must  make  his  choice 
at  once. 

Ye  cannot  serve  God  and  mammon.  Choose  ye 
this  day  whom  ye  will  serve. 


PARABLE   XIII. 

I  plucked  a  fresh  leaf  from  the  tree ;  all  its 
cells  were  full,  its  veins  firm  and  strong,  its  color 
vivid,  and  its  outline  perfect  ;  it  had  grown 
steadily,  supplied  with  sap  from  the  stalk  and 
plant  ;  it  was  so  beautiful  I  wished  to  keep  it. 

But  soon  it  began  to  fade  and  dry ;  its  life 
departed,  its  cells  shrunk,  its  color  vanished,  and 
it  was  withered  and  brown  and  dead ;  then  it 
crumbled  to  dust  and  blew  away.  It  was 
necessary  to  its  beauty  and  freshness  that  it 


256       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

should  remain  connected  with  its  source  of  life 
and  strength. 

Thus  it  is  with  the  mind  and  soul.  If  they 
abandon  and  forget  their  source  of  nourishment, 
—  books,  observation,  and  thought  for  the  mind, 
—  high  conduct,  noble  aims,  communion  with 
God  for  the  soul,  they  will  degenerate  and  decay 
and  become  like  the  withered  leaf  or  idle  chaff. 
The  branch  cannot  bear  fruit  of  itself  except  it 
abide  in  the  vine^  neither  can  ye  except  ye  abide  in 
me,  said  Jesus. 

PARABLE   XIV. 

A  little  girl  was  taken  sick;  a  swelling  upon 
the  knee  made  it  necessary  to  keep  her  in  bed 
for  some  months,  and  to  keep  her  leg  quite  still. 

"  Now,"  said  the  doctor,  "  we  must  rub  that  leg 
often  every  day,  or  it  will  shrink  and  not  grow  as 
fast  as  the  one  that  is  well  and  can  move  about, 
for  disuse  weakens  the  muscles,  and  when  they 
do  not  gain  strength,  they  lose  it." 

So  it  is  with  the  heart  ;    if  we  are  not  loving 

/ 

what  is  good,  we  are  losing  the  power  to  love  it, 
and  learning  more  and  more  to  love  the  wrong ; 
if  we  are  not  earnestly  desiring  and  striving  to  do 


PARABLES.  257 

our  best,  we  are  getting  more  and  more  inclined 
to  do  less  than  that,  and  tending  more  and  more 
to  do  and  to  be  our  worst. 

PARABLE  XV. 

High  up  in  the  clear  sky  flies  the  bluebird, 
among  the  first  to 'herald  the  coming  spring.  He 
flies  swiftly  above  the  clouds,  in  sunshine  and  in 
storm,  singing  a  joyous  carol.  His  wings  are  the 
color  of  the  deep  blue  sky,  and  here  he  avnd  his 
tribe  stay  with  their  cheerful  song  from  March  to 
October,  first  to  come,  and  last  to  go,  and  always 
finding  something  to  be  happy  about,  even  in  the 
early  spring  or  the  late  autumn.  He  is  like  the 
cheerful  and  trustful  soul  that  pursues  its  onward 
flight  above  the  clouds  of  trouble  through  the 
clear  sky  of  love  and  trust.  It  sings  its  sweetest 
songs  when  the  cold  winds  of  discouragement  and 
disappointment  blow  about  its  path.  It  reaches 
its  home  at  last  safe  and  happy  because  trusting 
in  God's  care,  and  finds  its  shelter  and  food, 
though  the  whole  earth  looks  empty  and  barren. 
It  flies  at  the  call  of  God,  who  never  misleads  it, 
but  guides  it  through  the  trackless  air  safely  to 
the  very  place  where  it  would  go. 


258      HO W  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

Let  us  be  like  the  bluebird,  and  be  sure  that  as 
God  guides  him  and  sustains  him,  so  He  will 
guide  and  sustain  the  least  of  us  if  we  do  our 
duty  cheerfully,  and  follow  trustfully  where  He 
leads. 

Jesus  said,  "Yet  one  of  them  does  not  fall  to 
the  ground  without  your  Father.  Are  ye  not 
much  better  than  they  ? " 


PARABLE  XVI. 

Behold  the  snow-flakes  falling !  They  are  so 
white,  so  feathery,  one  would  think  them  light 
and  formless  as  air ;  but,  catch  them  in  the  hand, 
and  look  carefully,  and  you  may  see  they  are 
made  of  starry  crystals  of  ice,  shaped  as  carefully 
and  beautifully  as  a  flower. 

And  the  flowers  of  summer,  too,  are  they  not 
arranged  in  beautiful  order,  — symmetrical,  and 
balanced  in  every  part,  three  petals,  three  sepals, 
a  three-lobed  stigma,  and  three  or  six  stamens,  as 
if  all  had  been  counted  and  fitted  exactly  to  a  pat- 
tern of  beauty  ?  And  so  it  is  exactly  fitted  to  the 
thought  of  God.  It  is  the  same  with  the  jewel  in 
its  hidden  bed ;  God  has  cut  it  in  lovely  forms,  as 


PARABLES.  259 

the  flower  and  the  snow-crystal,  according  to  His 
pattern  of  beauty  for  the  world  and  for  the  soul, 
and  the  flower  and  the  gem  and  the  snow-flake  all 
lend  their  forces  and  their  particles  to  carry  out 
His  law,  which  moulds  them  into  beauty  and 
harmony. 

Now  behold  the  young  hearts  God  has  given 
you,  and  remember  that  He  would  mould  them 
also  into  beauty,  but  you  must  lend  Him  your 
will  and  love  and  faithfulness  to  help  Him  do 
for  you  what  He  cannot  do  without  your  consent. 
Give  Him  your  conscience  to  do  everything  exactly 
right ;  your  love  to  harmonize  your  soul  with  His, 
as  the  pure  snow  and  the  clear  crystal  and  the 
lovely  flower  are  in  harmony  with  His  plans  for 
them  ;  your  will  in  choosing  pure  influences,  good 
habits  and  companions,  and  avoiding  what  is 
wrong ;  then,  as  you  grow  up  into  men  and 
women,  you  will  have  characters  of  symmetry, 
purity,  and  beauty,  fitted  to  shine  like  the  gem, 
to  bloom  like  the  flower,  to  hold  up  a  lofty  ideal 
as  the  snow-flake  holds  its  delicate  pattern  of 
beauty  clear  and  unbroken  through  wind  and 
storm,  that  at  last  you  may  be  set  as  jewels  in 
God's  everlasting  crown. 


200     HO IV  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

"  For  the  invisible  things  of  Him  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world  are  clearly  seen,  being 
understood  from  the  things  which  are  made." 


PARABLE  XVII. 

Oh,  the  pretty  little  Housatonias  !  a  patch  of 
their  delicate  stars  here,  a  patch  there,  all  over 
the  low  meadow.  Let  us  look  closely  at  them. 
In  this  patch  we  see  four  little  stamen-tips  held 
up  even  with  the  white  cross  made  by  the  four 
lobes  of  the  petal  ;  in  the  next  patch  the  two 
stigmas  spread  out  above  the  opening  corolla ; 
the  two  kinds  are  always  in  different  patches ; 
the  sort  that  shows  the  tips  of  the  anthers  and 
with  the  open  corolla  has  a  short  style  which 
brings  the  two  stigmas  half  way  up  the  tube  of 
the  corolla ;  the  other  sort  has  the  anthers  low 
and  the  stigmas  high.  The  partridge-berry  and 
the  primrose  have  their  flowers  on  the  same  plan  ; 
and  we  ask  what  the  plan  is  for  ? 

Now  when  the  little  insect,  flying  from  clump 
to  clump  over  the  moist  meadow,  alights  on  these 
little  violet-colored,  dainty  flowers  for  his  break- 
fast, he  pokes  his  tongue  down  into  the  tube  for 


PARABLES. 


26l 


the  nectar,  he  gets  his  face  smeared  with  pollen 
from  the  high  anthers,  and  as  he  flies  to  the  high 
stigmas,  that  pollen  is  rubbed  off  by  them,  which 
is  just  what  was  meant  to  be  done,  for  the  pollen 
will  only  ripen  into  seeds  when  left  in  the  stigma ; 
also,  as  he  gets  the  pollen  from  the  low  anthers 
he  carries  it  to  the  flowers  with  the  low  stigmas  ; 
so  he  finds  the  flowers  contrived  for  his  service  as 
nicely  as  any  plan  can  be  devised  for  a  certain 
end.  So,  if  you  look  at  the  laurel  with  its  nicely 
arranged  corolla  in  such  regular  rosy  points  with 
the  tips  of  the  stamens  bent  over,  each  in  its 
particular  niche,  you  see  a  wonderful  contrivance 
for  the  bee  to  carry  the  pollen  from  flower  to 
flower ;  for  the  filaments  are  so  many  springs 
which  will  remain  until  the  flower  fades,  unless 
touched ;  but  as  the  bee  jostles  them  in  his 
search  around  the  ovary  at  the  bottom  of  the 
flower,  they  all  start  off  and  discharge  their 
battery  of  pollen-dust  over  the  body  and  legs  of 
the  bee.  Try  it  with  your  finger,  and  see  the 
shock  with  which  the  ten  anthers  project  their 
grain  as  if  shot  from  a  pea-shooter.  Then  the 
dusty  fellow 'flies  to  another  blossom,  and  while 
he  revolves  about  the  stigma  with  his  head  in  the 


262       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

tube  he  leaves  all  his  bags  of  gold  in  that  safe 
bank  to  accumulate  interest  while  the  season 
lasts,  and  at  the  same  time  he  sets  off  another 
round  of  shot  from  the  ten  spring-guns,  and  gets 
loaded  up  for  another  trip.  Isn't  this  a  capital 
contrivance?  And  yet  the  bee  doesn't  know 
anything  about  it,  and  his  part  in  it  is  an  uncon- 
scious one,  although  so  essential.  The  flower 
itself  knows  nothing  of  the  purpose,  and  if  it  were 
conscious  it  might  even  consider  the  spring  of 
the  filaments  and  the  scattering  of  its  pretty 
yellow  pollen,  leaving  the  soft  anthers  bare  and 
the  little  pink  pockets  empty,  as  a  terrible 
calamity,  quite  ignorant  that  this  seeming  disaster 
is  the  climax  of  its  growing  activity,  the  great 
object  of  its  destiny,  and  the  aim  of  all  its  loveli- 
ness and  symmetry.  So  is  God's  plan  for  us 
careful  and  minute  for  the  fullest  development  of 
our  powers,  for  the  most  increasing  blessing  of 
our  existence.  We  do  not  understand  that  wise 
and  beneficent  plan,  and  when  our  golden  pollen 
of  hopes  is  scattered  and  the  accumulations  we 
have  delighted  in  are  borne  away,  we  grieve  at 
the  loss,  and  think  God  has  forgotten  to  bless  us  ; 
but  He  contrives  in  the  beginning  for  the  end  and 


PARABLES.  263 

works  all  things  together  for  good  to  us  ;  we  may 
wither  as  the  bright  laurel-bloom,  but  still  we 
know  God's  purposes  for  us  will  ripen,  and  He  has 
marked  out  every  step  of  the  way  for  us  ;  for  His 
plans  are  kind  and  can  never  fail,  and  all  our  tears 
are  counted  by  Him.  He  who  makes  such  careful 
provision  for  the  fruitage  of  the  flowers  contrives 
as  well  for  us,  though  we  see  not  how. 


PARABLE   XVIII. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  bee  fly  from  flower  to  flower, 
sipping  its  nectar  and  gathering  honey  ?  Did  you 
think  it  got  its  sweets  for  nothing  ?  Did  you  sup- 
pose the  flower  said,  "  Yes,  honey-bee,  take  all 
you  want ;  I  charge  you  nothing."  No ;  if  you 
could  hear  it,  it  would  say  in  your  ear,  "  I  make 
Mr.  Buzzer  do  a  brother's  work  for  me.  While  he 
pushes  his  yellow  head  into  my  pollen-tubes,  and 
tips  his  tongue  into  my  nectar-spurs,  I  dust  him 
well  with  the  pollen  I  want  to  send  to  my  neigh- 
bors, and  he  carries  it  right  easily  for  me,  even  if 
he  doesn't  know  it.  Sometimes  I  sprinkle  his 
nose  with  my  little  globules  ;  sometimes  I  stick 
bags  of  pollen  hanging  to  his  legs  and  poking  out 


264      HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

like  horns  from  his  head ;  sometimes  I  open  a 
trap-door  where  he  doesn't  expect  it,  and  he  has  to 
go  out  the  back  way  to  carry  the  load  I  have 
given  him.  Sometimes  I  touch  a  spring  arid  dis- 
charge a  volley  of  pollen  at  him  as  he  is  sipping 
or  tucking  away  his  wax-balls  in  his  side-pockets, 
and  he  is  covered  all  over  with  the  merchandise  I 
want  him  to  carry  to  the  waiting  flowers,  where 
he  will  be  sure  to  go.  I  even  get  him  to  touch  off 
the  springs  himself,  which  shoot  the  tiny  yellow 
shot  all  over  him,  or  fasten  loads  of  it  to  his  head, 
just  where  it  will  be  left  on  the  stigma  of  the  next 
flower  he  enters.  Ah !  we  are  cunning,  and 
make  the  bee  and  the  insect  pay  for  all  we  give 
them." 

Now,  little  butterfly  children,  you  flying  about 
the  garden  of  youth,  have  to  do  your  part  in  it, 
after  all ;  you  cannot  enjoy  anything  without 
working  for  it  ;  you  cannot  take  without  giving  ; 
you  must  do  your  share,  a  brother's  or  sister's 
part.  You  cannot  learn  without  work,  or  play 
without  earning  the  right  to  it.  Think  of  the  gay, 
happy  butterfly,  and  the  busy  bee,  as  they  gather 
their  sweets,  and  remember  that  as  they  take  they 
give,  as  they  carry  and  work  for  themselves  they 


PARABLES.  265 

carry  and  work  for  others,  too,  and  no  living  crea- 
ture can  live  for  himself  alone. 

"  For  the  invisible  things  of  Him  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world  are  clearly  seen,  being 
understood  from  the  things  which  are  made." 

PARABLE    XIX. 

Have  you  watched  the  twining  vines,  turning 
about  to  show  their  lovely  blossoms  ?  The  morn- 
ing-glory and  nasturtium,  the  clematis,  or  the 
Virginia  creeper,  peeping  in  and  out  our  lattices, 
and  holding  themselves  up  as  they  seem  to  stand 
on  tiptoe  at  our  chamber  windows  ;  you  see  them 
reaching  out  their  finger-like  tendrils,  feeling  for  a 
support,  and  then,  getting  a  good  hold,  they  twine 
around  it  and  draw  the  whole  vine  that  way  until 
it  grows  firm  and  can  never  be  drawn  away. 

I  think  of  the  vines  and  their  tendrils  as  I  look 
at  my  scholars  ;  they,  like  the  vines,  are  young  and 
tender,  and  unable  to  grow  up  by  themselves,  but 
hold  out  clasping  hands  to  others  as  the  vines 
hold  out  their  delicate  tendrils.  There  are  many 
who  offer  a  hand  to  help  the  children  climb  ;  but 
there  are  also  false  supports,  which  give  way  just 
when  they  are  most  needed  —  and  the  vine,  with 


266       HOW  SHALL  MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

its  bright  flowers  and  rich  fruits,  falls  in  the  dust, 
to  be  trampled  on  and  spoiled.  The  little  vine 
tendrils  seem  to  know  when  to  cling  and  what  it 
will  be  unsafe  to  clasp.  The  growing  tendril  seek- 
ing a  support  often  turns  aside  so  as  to  make  a 
clear  sweep  above  what  it  would  easily  wind  around. 
A  wise  man  who  has  watched  the  slender  passion- 
flower revolve  says,  "  We  may  see  with  wonder 
that  when  a  tendril  comes  round  so  that  its  base 
nears  the  stem,  which  it  will  not  be  safe  to  clasp, 
it  stops  short,  rises  stiffly  upright  until  it  passes 
by  the  stem,  then  comes  back  again  and  moves  on 
so  till  it  again  approaches  and  again  avoids  what 
it  must  not  entwine." 

So  children,  as  they  put  out  their  tendrils  of 
thoughts  and  wishes,  can  choose  what  to  cling  to, 
and,  if  they  have  come  near  what  is  unsafe  and 
will  not  give  support,  can  stop  short  and  swing 
above  it,  holding  up  their  thoughts  with  a  stiff 
will  and  resolve  to  avoid  the  wrong.  Their  clasp- 
ing thought-tendrils  will  draw  the  whole  vine 
toward  what  they  have  clung  to,  and  the  life  will 
grow  bent  and  strong  in  just  that  direction,  until 
it  is  impossible  ever  to  turn  it  aside.  See  the 
vine  tendril  twist  and  coil  as  it  pulls  the  vine 


PARABLES.  267 

closer  and  stronger  to  its  tie  !  So  the  thoughts 
and  inclinations  of  the  child  twist  and  coil  into 
habits  drawing  the  life  and  character  as  they  will. 
Watch,  then,  your  thoughts  and  desires  that  they 
do  not  reach  out  to  false  supports  and  twist  and 
coil  into  unyielding  habits  which  draw  the  soul  to 
sure  destruction^  but  let  them  climb  ever  up  to 
the  light  of  truth  and  purity  under  the  clear  air  of 
heaven. 

PARABLE    XX. 

I  hardly  knew  that  winter  was  gone,  but,  as  I 
walked  along  the  road  where  the  willows  grow,  I 
noticed  the  furry  buds  alternate  on  the  branches, 
so  I  broke  off  a  few  to  put  into  my  vase  at  home 
that  I  might  watch  them  swell  to  yellow  tassels  as 
the  days  went  by.  The  ends  broken  from  the 
bough  were  wet,  and,  as  I  walked  on,  drops  col- 
lected and  fell  from  them.  I  knew  it  was  the  sap 
that  had  crept  up  the  tiny  tubes  from  the  roots 
of  the  tree  to  carry  life  to  every  little  twig  and 
burst  into  bud  and  blossom.  How  wonderful,  I 
thought,  is  the  ascent  of  this  life-giving  sap  in  the 
veins  of  the  brown  and  quiet  stems !  It  rises 
without  a  sound  or  any  promise  of  coming  that  we 


268     HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

can  hear,  and  it  is  only  in  the  swelling  bud  and 
the  opening  leaf  or  flower  we  first  perceive  its 
presence  or  its  wonder-working  power.  It  is 
hidden,  but  ever-ascending,  and  at  last  it  brings 
the  dead  world  to  life  and  spreads  verdure  and 
fruitfulness  throughout  nature. 

So  it  is  with  the  impulse  of  a  soul  toward  God ; 
it  may  be  unseen  and  unheard,  but  at  last  it  trans- 
forms the  life,  and  blooms  into  full  beauty  of  char- 
acter ;  it  is  ever  active,  rising  into  every  hidden 
channel  of  life-work,  infusing  its  virtue  and  energy 
into  every  thought  and  word  and  act,  until,  like 
the  sap  in,  the  barren  tree,  it  has  converted  the 
whole  life  that  contains  it  into  one  bountiful 
expression  of  beauty  and  fruition. 

I  saw,  too,  that  the  sap  rises  not  only  in  great 
trees  whose  years  can  be  counted  by  the  rings  on 
their  sawed-off  trunks,  but  also  in  the  little  sap- 
lings of  a  summer's  growth;  not  only  in  the  old 
oaks  which  drop  a  thousand  acorns,  but  in  the 
tender  young  shoots  glowing  with  deep  red  leaf- 
buds  in  the  spring. 

So  the  holy  purpose  of  good  living  and  the 
wonder-working  love  of  God  springs  not  alone  in 
grown  men  and  women,  but  in  the  hearts  of  the 


PARABLES.  269 

children,  where  it  rises  day  by  clay,  fuller  and 
stronger,  to  make  them  grow  better  and  more  like 
green  trees  planted  by  the  river,  whose  leaves 
shall  not  wither,  and  that  bring  forth  fruit  in  their 
season. 

TARABLE   XXI. 

There  is  a  road  on  the  shores  of  the  Merrimac, 
not  far  from  the  home  of  the  poet  Whittier,  which 
runs  through  a  lovely  stretch  of  pine  woods  called 
Follymill  Woods.  There  you  may  find  the  earli- 
est flowers  of  spring :  the  Hepatica  ;  the  Anem- 
one ;  the  Trientalis ;  the  Solomon's  Seal ;  the 
Strawbell ;  the  Violet :  and,  most  beautiful  of  all, 
the  Epigea  or  Mayflower,  in  all  its  pink  loveliness 
and  delicious  fragrance.  You  may  go  there  when 
the  March  winds  are  chill,  or  patches  of  snow  still 
lie  in  the  hollows  ;  not  a  green  leaf  has  spread  its 
blade  nor  the  grass  begun  to  spring  forth,  yet  by 
pushing  away  the  dead  brown  leaves  from  the 
stems,  you  will  disclose  the  most  delicate  of  the 
year's  blossoms,  the  purple  and  pink  Hepatica ;  it 
looks  up  from  the  brown  mould  like  the  trustful 
eye  of  childhood,  wide  open  and  beautiful  as  the 
clear  sky  above  it.  Like  all  the  flowers  I  have 


2/0      HO IV  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

named,  it  seems  fragile  and  tender,  not  ready  for 
the  struggle  of  life  or  the  rude  blasts  that  await 
it ;  but  it  comes  forth  at  the  call  of  its  Maker  as 
fresh  and  perfect  as  if  kissed  by  the  June  sun- 
shine and  breathed  upon  by  the  zephyrs  of 
summer. 

I  like  to  pass  the  noon  hours  of  late  March  or 
early  April  in  the  woods  of  Follymill,  for  the 
sweet  breath  of  the  pine,  the  sound  of  the  near 
river  rushing  with  the  freshness  of  mountain 
snows  melted  into  its  swollen  current,  as  well  as 
the  sweet  young  flowers  at  my  feet,  all  tell  me 
how  near  and  how  good  is  the  Father  and  Creator 
of  nature  and  of  life.  As  He  is  close  to  the 
spring  blossoms,  and  cares  for  their  tender  loveli- 
ness, as  He  protects  their  fragile  forms  from  the 
cold  winds,  and  covers  them  with  the  dead  leaves 
for  warmth,  or  wraps  their  stems  and  buds  in 
downy  folds,  so  He  watches  over  the  children  in 
their  tender  youth,  and  shelters  them  from  .storms 
of  trouble,  gives  them  hope  and  joy  and  love,  like 
sweet,  delicate  petals  unfolding  to  beautify  life  as 
the  spring  flowers  beautify  the  woods  of  Follymill. 

Jesus  said,  "  If  God  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the 
field,  shall  he  not  much  more  clothe  you  ? " 


PARABLES.  271 

PARABLE    XXII. 

A  fresh  green  leaf  stands  up  from  the  elm 
bough  into  the  sunshine.  As  the  light  gleams 
through  it  I  see  somewhat  of  its  pattern  of  beauty, 
its  frame-work  of  veins  so  symmetrical,  its  margin 
of  points  so  nicely  cut,  its  delicate  plaits  so  pre- 
cise ;  and  I  see  still  more,  —  that  its  fibre  is  filled 
in  with  little  egg-like  cells,  all  green  and  bubbling. 
What  is  going  on  in  that  pretty  leaf  ? 

Ah,  the  leaf  is  an  exquisite  factory  for  the 
manufacture  of  plant-tissue.  It  is  just  packed 
with  the  green,  translucent  cells  in  which  the  very 
water  of  life  seems  to  bubble  and  roll.  Each  cell 
is  a  little  loom  in  the  leaf-factory ;  it  does  honest 
and  busy  work  all  day,  the  sun  and  air  helping  it, 
the  sap  flowing  into  it,  and  the  tide  of  life  pulsat- 
ing through  it.  Each  cell  is  not  too  small  for 
God  to  come  to  with  his  gifts  of  life  and  light,  nor 
too  small  to  do  its  part  of  the  work  for  the  whole 
leaf;  but  its  one  part  is  just  as  great  and  neces- 
sary as  any  other  part,  so  it  works  away,  weaving 
and  building  into  the  leaf,  until  its  pattern  of 
beauty  and  regularity,  its  unity  and  harmony  are 
complete. 


2/2      HO IV  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

My  little  school  is  a  green  leaf,  and  the  children 
are  the  active  and  willing  cells.  None  are  too 
small  or  too  insignificant  to  work  for  the  whole 
and  weave  the  pretty  web  of  life  and  joy.  None 
are  too  humble  or  too  careless  for  God  to  come  to 
with  His  life  and  light  of  love  and  truth,  but  every 
one  can  fill  in  and  build  in  joyfully  its  part  of 
order  and  harmony  for  the  whole.  We  may  say 
that  the  veins  and  framework  are  the  rules  and  the 
teacher  :  they  give  the  pattern  ;  each  cell  must  be 
very  exact  and  careful  and  put  its  work  just 
according  to  that  pattern,  or  the  whole  leaf  will  be 
out  of  order.  Each  fine  curve  of  the  pointed 
edge,  each  folded  plait  of  the  leaf  is  true,  so  with 
thorough  and  faithful  work  each  distinct  child-cell 
shall  build  up  the  beauty  of  the  school-leaf,  its 
growth  and  perfection.  And  as  each  little  cell  in 
the  leaf  is  building  the  tissue  of  the  plant  and 
strengthening  itself  and  the  whole  at  the  same 
time,  so  is  each  child  building  in  for  himself,  and 
for  all  the  rest,  the  firm  tissue  of  mind  and  char- 
acter, and  clothing  all  in  a  garment  of  loveliness 
and  growth  which  shall  last  forever. 


.PARABLES.  273 

PARABLE    XXIII. 

I  lay  idly  swaying  in  my  hammock  as  the  deep 
river  rolled  by ;  the  current  was  strong  and  swift, 
and  rushing  out  to  the  sea  not  two  miles  away.  I 
observed  its  steady  rush,  and  thought  of  the  force 
which  had  gathered  it  from  the  hills  and  brought 
it  with  greater  and  greater  swiftness  on  its  way  to 
the  ocean  ;  but  when  I  looked  again,  the  waters 
had  turned  on  their  course,  and  the  salt  waves 
seemed  to  be  flooding  the  clear  river  with  a  might- 
ier power  to  push  back  its  current  again. 

"  That  is  the  tide,"  said  my  friend.  "  I  sit  here 
by  the  river-cliff  and  wonder  at  its  mystery.  Up 
it  comes  regularly,  twice  a  day ;  then  back  it 
goes,  and  the  fresh  mountain  water  speeds  once 
more,  unhindered,  to  the  great  home  of  waters. 
What  does  it  mean,  this  ebb  and  flow,  unremitting, 
forever  ?  " 

"It  means,"  I  said,  "that  the  great  law  of 
Nature, —  alternation,  renovating  change,  —  is  the 
law  of  life  ;  rest  and  activity,  night  and  day,  sleep 
and  waking,  like  the  law  of  the  pendulum  measur- 
ing the  time  ;  it  is  the  direction  of  God's  hand  in 
the  working  of  the  machinery  of  the  universe  ;  His 


2/4       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD   BE    TAUGHT? 

finger  on  the  wheels  ;  His  swing  in  the  pendulum. 
I  copy  it  unconsciously  as  I  swing  here  in  the 
hammock  ;  my  pulse  beats  to  its  touch  ;  my  heart 
throbs  with  its  motion  ;  the  sea  rushes  up  to  the 
shores  to  tell  us  God's  power  is  behind  and  within 
all,  and  that  His  way  for  us  is  that  of  regular  ebb 
and  flow.  If  sorrow  comes  for  a  night,  joy  returns 
in  the  morning.  If  we  go  too  far  in  one  way,  we 
shall  go  just  as  far  in  the  opposite;  and  extreme 
leads  to  extreme.  It  is  a  law  of  health  that  we 
shall  have  this  flood^  and  this  retreat  of  force,  of 
feeling,  of  desire,  and  happiness.  We  must  bal- 
ance our  rise  and  fall ;  we  must  measure  our  mo- 
tions as  evenly  and  quietly  as  possible ;  and  let 
every  alternation  of  life,  every  heart-beat,  and 
every  aspiration,  remind  us  of  the  tide  of  God's 
love  and  power  around  us  and  within  us." 

"  But,"  said  my  friend,  "  is  it  not  of  some  far-off 
attraction  and  repulsion  that  the  tide  tells?" 

"That  may  be,  too,"  said  I,  "for  who  knows 
what  far-off  fact  or  event,  what  influence  beyond 
our  knowledge,  draws  us  or  drives  us  ?  Some- 
thing which  we  have  not  the  eye  to  see,  which  no 
telescope  can  reach ;  something  in  our  history 
before  we  were  born  :  something  in  our  destiny  of 


PARABLES.  275 

which  we  are  quite  ignorant,  yet  affects  us  every 
day  and  hour  of  our  lives,  —  but  it  is  all  a  part  of 
God's  leading  or  withholding ;  and  near  or  far, 
small  or  great,  is  the  secret  touch  of  His  finger 
upon  the  spring  of  our  lives.  Let  our  heart  and 
all  its  influences  respond  to  God's  finger-touch, 
swing  toward  the  high,  even  the  unattainable  ;  let 
our  thoughts  swell  with  their  unceasing  reach 
after  heavenly  things,  —  and  their  tides,  like  the 
ocean's,  will  invigorate  and  refresh  the  current  of 
our  lives." 

The  law  of  balance,  Nature  thus  teaches  us,  is 
one  of  God's  laws  of  progressive  life,  spiritual  and 
physical. 

PARABLE    XXIV. 

So,  as  we  sat  by  the  river,  with  the  rushing, 
mighty  tide  coming  up  about  the  rocks  and  dash- 
ing its  salt  waves  into  the  recesses,  the  evening 
came  upon  us.  The  river  glowed  with  the  sunset 
lights,  and  by  and  by  reflected  the  great  planet  of 
evening  broken  into  a  thousand  jewels  by  the  play 
of  waters.  We  talked  and  thought,  perhaps  with 
each  other,  perhaps  with  God,  who  seemed  to 
have  come  so  close  in  His  tides  and  His  stars  and 


2/6       HOW  SHALL   MY  CHILD  BE    TAUGHT? 

the  great  blaze  of  His  sunset  glory.  "  There 
hangs  the  evening  star,"  we  said  ;  "  it  is  steady  ; 
and  we  have  learned  that  it,  with  the  other 
heavenly  bodies,  does  not  swing  to  and  fro,  but 
moves  undisturbed  in  its  great  circles ;  in  the 
beauty  of  the  curve  its  motions  are  set  and  its 
path  has  no  alternations."  So  in  greater  perfec- 
tion of  motion  Nature  pursues  her  course  as  her 
sphere  of  life  ascends.  The  forces  which  draw 
the  heavenly  bodies  are  opposite  indeed,  but  so 
truly  balanced,  so  unbrokenly  obeyed,  that  they 
move  on  in  their  orbits  subject  to  no  extremes,  to 
no  violence  of  motion,  to  no  variation  of  aim,  but 
with  one  eternal  centre  and  an  unwavering  course 
about  it.  So  the  law  of  balance  has  become  a  lazv 
of  rest  in  motion;  and  that  is  the  law  of  the  high- 
est activity.  To  that  may  our  life-course  tend  in 
the  eternal  progress  of  our  souls. 


SYCHOLOGY 


By   GABRIEL  COMPAYRE 

Translated  by  WILLIAM  H.  PAYNE,  Ph.D.,  LL.D., 

Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Nashville,  and  President  of  the 
Peabody  Normal  College 

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OBSERVATION  •••    PRIMARY  ••• 
•'•  lESSONSiNTHE  I  SCHOOLS 

By  LOUISA    P.  HOPKINS, 

Supervisor  of  Elementary  Science  in  Boston  Public  Schools 

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THE  SWEDISH  SYSTEM  OF  EDUCATIONAL  GYMNASTICS 
By  BARON  NILS  POSSE  M.G.     Graduate  of  the  Royal  Gymnastic  Cen- 
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THE  VOICE 

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AN   HOUR  WITH   DELSARTE 

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